berlin lit

Claire Carroll

 

Freakish Sites of Immense Truth

 

The beach. One small boat-body

seems to shake, flinging itself

down, down, into the sand.

 

The water oozes, becomes

a secret channel to the sea.

 

A green tint lump of glass,

almost opaque, impossible nothing.

 

But glass, dull light upon a finger,

the vague sea-strain of thought,

looked at again and again:

 

That impulse to pick up millions

of stones, place a little pile in the brain.