tidal street

Poem #253 from a series of poems drawn from the imagination and collected as: a Bachelard reverie.

Back to Bachelard and me – Introduction

the tide roars
down Mellish Street
every truck
confirms the ebb

until it seems
it must be twice-washed
first clean
and then away

but ever yet
it will rush again


until a distant sound
from the granite bridge
that serves as buoy marker
down at the bottom
of the street
the warning-vane
of one incoming

a mile of build
a mile
of sound
enlarging north and south
while all the time rising
rushing east
toward the morning
and a coming day

I wait
the sound flows over me

the sea
a storm
is waiting
for the next sound-wave
to ebb
and wash beyond
a traffic tide

© Frank Prem 2018

Bachelard and me Poem #254: passing images

2 thoughts on “tidal street

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