Leaning into the afternoons I cast my sad nets

towards your oceanic eyes.

There in the highest blaze my solitude lengthens and flames

its aims turning a drowning man's.

I send out red signals across your absent eyes

that smell like the sea or the beach by a lighthouse.

You keep only darkness, my distant female

from your regard sometimes the coast of dread emerges.

Leaning into the afternoons I fling my sad

nets to that sea that thrashed by your oceanic eyes T

he birds of night peck at the first stars

that flash like my soul when I love you

The night gallops on its shadowy mare

Shedding blue tassels over the land