The following little poem is the second Primeval Poem, after one called “Moon Party.” August 2001.

They were both “instant poems”- I just wrote whatever was there to write.

This one has an image which was actually a precognition of the World Trade Center on 9/11, which occurred little more than one week after the writing of this: it’s the inscrutable line about the air turning to sand.

I thought, I can’t write that. But then later I knew exactly what this was about.

These first draft poems have their own drawbacks, mawkish perhaps, but a nice movement toward life as well.

I’m thinking of kids going to school and hoping that everyone stays safe.

Two pages from an old notebook.

Primeval Poem #2

Ferry Bldg, Bridge, afternoon

Poem:

Out on the pier I saw a little boy
chasing seagulls.
He did the baby dinosaur dance
for his ancient cousins.

They squawked their appreciation
hopped to one side or up to the pier
or beat the air gaily with one wing.

The green water smiled its flat square smile,
cool to its deep deep bottom.

The bridge continued its yoga stretch and relaxed.

Then,
because it’s the modern world and I’d seen it so many times

the boy did his warrior dance in slow motion, the air turned to grains of sand, and I began to cry.

Each star came out to watch, waited patiently as God filled in its brightness,
and then, set free,
the air shown with gold.

The green water was thirsty for that nice gold color, I noticed.

The bridge held back the night sky
for one more minute;
one last ship, a giant, red and black
pulled out to sea every wrinkle.

We have to be very still now.
No one move.

Solemnly a gull hops to one side though,
And up on a pier
and lifts its wing.