I:  OF THE WEST

1


On the grey beach
Men hammer madly at
The talismans of a lost past
Unknown but believed in
Compulsively shattering
The secret's not released
But broken.

Purchase and achievement spread it
That perfect find repeated
As the miracle of commodity
Swopping it if lucky
Colour postcards of the stars
The piledriver hammering
Red rusty walls
Against a glass-green sea
Bright under the breakwater
Sucking and pulling stones
Until the town and all the people
Lost as the dinosaurs and the ammonites
No one wants to find us

Our secret will be safe
Unbroken inside concrete boulders
Red soft pebbles of bricks
Old worn glass and slivers of plastic
Spreading out and losing themselves
Against the grey black sagging cliffs