This poem is taken from PN Review 116, Volume 23 Number 6, July - August 1997.
Slip
and to know how to be Nobody, like Ulysses, perhaps one needs the sea
Claudio Magris
A path that holds
a thousand barnacles
and no definite end,
that's slowed at in passing,
even stopped at with
an hour or so to kill.
One of a handful
of dispersed survivors
from the Napoleonic wars,
touched up with cement
and with numbers frayed
to flecks of yellow paint.
A jaunt after dinner
is drawn to the blade
...
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