I.
The Atlantic Basin's chains
are wooden bale-crustaceans.
II.
In foreign trade are boats in welcome
to ferry to taxi to float.
III.
The maritime bells parade,
knocking seasons aghast
and sounds of industry behind.
IV.
Where rats run peripatetic
and manure straddles the walk.
V.
Roses, helicopters, names, nations,
fleas - a statue of liberty
a minus the means.
VI.
What a true lone star
this afternoon of smoke, detritus
universal and staid - I forgot my lunch.
VII.
That brass banging across the town
from the water and into the tug.
VIII.
A bustle of boats, Father
and a legion of caraway.
IX.
Pineapple combs
and cones of salt!
--Joshua Baldwin