Drifting into promiscuous Inconsequence, and lost, or else Catching, collecting, feeding, building up Show-tinted, less-than-candid honesties, Worked upon, worked upon, in the tidal sweep, In a living artifice, a growing artifice of living. Each in the spreading lune of a quiet bay, Not haunted much for gain, Pours out; and the sediments of other earth— Oversea-borne deposits—come to accost The tributes from our still-uncharted home, And feed, with them, the animate branches there, The polyp antlers waving at the moon: An architecture live and petrified, A currency of roving and rooted things Inhabiting the permeable peace This outlaw place affords.

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