Walk a ways with me, here by the Saugus River and the Old Iron
Works, where I played as a boy, where Arethusa bulbosa (dragon's
mouth orchid or swamp pride) waits for spring and new reeds to hide
the young of red-winged blackbirds, where indentured Scot servants
worked off their passage, where Captain Kidd brought his treasure
to bury on Vinegar Hill (not found yet by boy or man), all leading
me to say: The Hour Falling Light Touches Rings of Iron (at the
First Iron Works of America, Saugus, MA): You must remember,
Pittsburgh is not like this, would never have been found without
the rod bending right here, sucked down by the earth. This is not
the thick push of the three rivers? water hard as name-calling?.
Slag makes a bucket bottom feed iron rings unto water, ferric
oxides, clouds of rust.
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