Bayonne Bridge A. E. Weisgerber
Come walk along the Bayonne sky and pause above the Kill Van Kull. where hallelujah arching vaults, o’er asphalt launch their sonic songs, Doppler Effects, Brian Enoes, in curlicue wakes of tug boats. Our muse assumes the shape of boats, ambassador of bay and sky, then, like old man Verrazano whose distant towers peep the kull, her steady hiccup-wheels spin songs with expansion joints and asphalt. Power-wedges? cushioned assault? Nothing much has changed with tug boats. Their surly, barging strong-armed song pips under a chip of asphalt sky— whose girders, cables, arches, cull an eight-fingered wave from Queneau. Something about this form, Q knows, is shabby vintage, like John Galt. Wooden word pallets, ladders, sculls, strew the paths of prowling tug boats. Rivets, bolts, footings, beams, the bridge: It’s aggressive, this Kill Van Kull song.
4
Jersey Devil Press
