iron-rimmed wheels
- drawn by iron-shod hooves
gave a clattering cadence
- reverbing dull bells
ringing atonal peals
- along ill-masoned lanes
of Belgian block cobbles
- and dredged Venice stones
bilge-pitted from urine
- of a hundred stout lads
crude ballast unshipped
for a nickel a ton
from heart-of-oak vessels
- of mercantile Brits
singing Cockney crew lingo
- with cargo commands
over heaps dropped in nets
- upon creaking tarred wharves
Schermerhorn Dutch
- gave out guttural barks
to the breaking breeze humming
- through neatly reefed yards
slung up high-crossed on masts
- overtowering docks
where a nautical polyglot
- spilled its cacophony
up and down gangplanks East
- Indiamen hove in place
with great bangs and hard crashes
- that echoed across the wide
swift running current dividing
- Manhattan from Brooklyn
from my forty-floored glass
- looking down on the seaport
when sail-masted schooners
- or frigates would moor
all the sounds of the centuries
- rose up to reach me
transporting me back to
- that wild newborn world
of rapscallion romance
- and mean edged adventure
where men grunted glory
- for merely surviving
another new day
- all the time feeling wistful
that I had been born
- too long after my time
***********************************
(Note: my office was on the 40th floor of the octagonal tower at enter of the photo)
(originally posted November 2013)