Thursday, April 8, 2010

white stone

What I took for a Windsor Terrace cement stoop started to look porous as I got closer, closer, it showed what looked like tiny shell splinters. I wasn't sure until I saw this little thing, a tiny bit of sea fan, perhaps, that it really was limestone, always a product of ancient ocean floors.

From what I hear the sea floor really gets around, subducted under continental plates, pushed to the margins by magma bleeding aquatic rifts, pressure-cooked as marble, lifted into mountain ranges and then weathered down into solute. Taken up by mollusks and corals all over again. Here in Brooklyn the pelagic relic is rarely out of eye shot, often carved gracefully to complement the stone's oceanic allure. I have a new hobby, looking for these little fans, all the fan that fancy needs as far as I'm concerned. Mermaids must live around here somewhere.

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