Durham High School - Messenger Yearbook (Durham, NC)

Page 26 text:

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

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

Page 27 text:

He ' d wakened chilled beyond the point That any heavy clothes could warm, And yet unwilling to hunt the wood To build a fire, and cook some food. He could not guess what early hour The cold, (and God knows what), had chosen. To shake him from unsoothing rest. Nor how much longer he ' d have until The skies, their fourth day clouded then. Would loose themselves with snow or rain. The ashes from the last night ' s fire Were blown and scattered by the wind That started as he ' d tried to sleep. And gone on through his shameful dreams. It even now could force itself Upon his fire and in his bed. He ' d have to eat his breakfast cold. And then he ' d leave, though ill prepared. ' —Ronnie Clark