the spinning plates of day and night
fracture that one long wave of dusk--
and in eclipse our darkness shared
will by light alone rarely touch

any but hungers that call to home--
to stars of course off course and hard
in their incubation as stalwart eyes
against the fertile profundity of rot--

or upon-- i do not know, oh i do not--
for here the world falls to ocean floor
and sand itself transforms to octopus--

here the stomach eddies warm as wave--
here death and birth are frictions shared
as minor houses entered are by fire lost