Durham High School - Messenger Yearbook (Durham, NC)

Page 25 text:

Standing in knee-highwaves Gathering the senses to a single unit; Walking a nettled catwalk To be tuned to the clamorous and the hushing sounds of life; Remaining to quietly view The protruding, glazed, and happy eyeball. Smelling bread, fires, perfume, and rubbish Mixed to an inseparable blend; The delicate but disciplined fingers of a And the hot breath of the city That burns itself into the tongue And threatens with its grip Until . . . before the blurred eyes Everything sweeps into Awe. . . And Fear. —David Rigsbee woman 2t

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—Alex Tanford Hello little brownmouse living, existing, In a broken rock wall. Scurrying here, there, noplace Aimless intention on being something else. Fool! You will always be A little brownmouse, for ever and ever, anyway. You wouldn ' t like it here. Here, in the autumn world Of human reality Of twisted emotions That make no sense. Maybe one day You and I can trade places. At least for a little while. 20

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GATHERING INDIAN RELICS Early morning, I walk the furrows Seeking vestiges of cruder lives than mine, Tools of chisled flint, fragmented earthenware Interred by wind and rain. Unearthed by plow. Back and forth I tread the field. Head bowed. Often stooping to crumble soil Off an artifact, or more likely Just a stone. Now and then I raise my head To survey the contours of the land. And seeing it as something other than a cornfield I pause. Noon, I walk the furrows still. The farmer ' s harvest is not yet planted; I reap one seeded long ago. — David Fein