So there they sat, forever gazing west
forever writing politics in verse,
detritus of American ambition.
They sat and watched the sea, the billows green
and gold and sometimes black forever rolled
between us. Often wars broke out among
the ranks of these sea-watchers, longing hearts
recognizant of anti-satisfying
self and east in someone other's face.
Their poems stained upon the sand remain
with blood for ink and sun-bleached bones for shame.