Proceedings (Original Poem)

schooner
Photo: Robert Linder

This morning,
on a platform on the sands of the city
procession thrown open:
police hands, carriages,
white gloves in robes
who were kneeling
in a most impressive prayer.

The others decent,
dressed in white trousers
and brown coats,
launched into eternity
with different lanes and windows,
an escort of the arts and parts,
the indictment being read.

Once tried before
the High Court of Prisoners,
all the coarse men board the schooner,
walking across its calfskin platform.

Lodged in due time
by the arms of the vessel,
the cabinet-maker and ironmonger,
the remaining fifteen who were called upon;
and the prisoners being asked
if they had any concealment,
any clerks from the collectors
of peace for the districts and counties.

A haven outside the jurisdiction of the court
that was set upon, hoarded, broken
in the war of possession.

Four barrels the value of twenty dollars,
gold watches with goods,
their chattels now in custody.

The negotiations purchased and paid for,
some doubts on the manner of conspiracy.
Cargo liner filled by numerous shippers,
delivered and painted over silver waters.

Counsel for the prisoner
informed of his right to object
authorities ancient and unenlightened;
the circumstances enacted here.

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