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| The Old Sea In comes the sea and in comes the sky In come the wishes and in come the waves In come the people from beaten shores Slow bend the wills of tempting rocks Slow beat the hearts of cycled fogs Slow blow the brains of empty docks Here come the hordes of barbarian blue Here sink the teeth of memories of you Here fights the breath of the plangent steppes There steals the light of bursting Gods There marches time on creaking legs There drinks the lip of mother tongues Where arcs the tide of ancient gills Where snaps the life of a myriad men Where swim the pens of poets shoals © David Incoll 2001 |
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| Copyright by David Incoll 2001 | ||||||||||||||||||