On a sail bright window the beach is rib
In ages old.
A sundial moon looks back
Over the hoary suns white shoulder
Lips that rim the wave wet mouth
Cusps the stars the worlds,
On a primordial throne
Fossil tarpaulins stand pyramid erect,
The shell broken time of bone
Of circular rhyme crawls gaping,
Into the trawlers net.
Like a lance drawn from a narwhale
The winds great sphere
Bent on its oracles of hope,
The waves undeniable white-spoke!