but INSPIRED (however you spell it)?
From: Gunnar Jauch
To: [log in to unmask]
Sent: 2004-Jul-13 11:23 AM
Subject: NEW YORKER POEM
THE FATAL SHORE
by William Logan
01 The horseshoe crab in frail armor plate,
broken up by javelin throw,
lay in the sand like a cracked jam jar,
the son of some Troyan.
05 Achilles, too, arrived in medias res
at his mortal scene,
The booming foghorn, the groaning buoy
tide by tide by tide
09 Kept their mockeries to themselves.
Was there no end to them?
Lost Renaissance studies with sepia cast,
the dunes receded in perspective.
13 Fog lounged in the marsh shallows.
A soda-colored dawn again and again
rubbed salt into the clapboards,
collapsing upon a radiant wild-eyed dailiness.
17 Dullness, too, was my god. /
Tangled knobs of seaweed
drifted up the beach on a curt tide,
like Myrmidons out of work.
01 The starfish, the hermit crab...
02 the shattered lobsterpot...
07 ...and the heaving groaner
08 Rounded homewards
10 Where is there an end of it, the soundless wailing...
13 The fog is in the fir trees.
17 I don't know much about gods; but I think M. Logan was inspierd by
The Dry Salvages!
Summer's greetings to y'all: