Leaning into the afternoon I forged my unhappy nets
towards your oceanic eyes
there within the highest blaze my solitude lengthens and flames
its arms turning sort of a drowning man's
I transmit red signals across your absent eyes
that move just like the ocean close to a beacon light
you keep solely darkness, my distant feminine
from your regard generally the coast of dread emerges.
Leaning into the afternoons, I fling my unhappy nets
to that ocean that beat on your marine eyes
the bird of night pick at the primary stars
that flash like my soul after I love you
The night gallops on its shadowy mare
shedding blues tassels over the land