Coogee.(Poem)

 
Coogee 
 
   The sloping esplanade bends round the beach, 
   Flanked by a row of golden globes on poles 
   Which seem to leach 
   All other colours out of nine o'clock's 
   Submission to the ordinance of dark. 
   Against what must be rocks 
   At the blind limit of this yellow arc 
   What must be ocean rolls, 
 
   If it were visible. One orange beacon, 
   Blurred by some porous thickening of air, 
   Can only weaken 
   On Dolphins Point and slowly sink from view 
   As you draw near. Beside you as you pass 
   A solemn retinue 
   Of seagulls observes silence on the grass, 
   Under the dull gold glare, 
 
   Correctly marshalled and in uniform. 
   By way of contrast, milling on the sand, 
   A separate swarm 
   Of gulls obeys a separate motivation, 
   Shifting and standing, turn and turn about, 
   As in some installation, 
   Following steps the artist has laid out 
   And under his command. 
 
   The only ...