Abstract
The heavy tongues lap out against the shore, White out of darkness, coiling, strength on strength. Puckering brows of the sea-driven beasts, running riderless, Hammer the night shore. Sands slip in jeopardy. The brown beach, lost from the moon, suffers the tide's brute suck, Caravan tracks of the sea, ventured beyond culminations, roister and roar Up the shore's loins. Mad lips to give love; hard lips, turning ever away. Out of the clash wake tremblings in lovers who watch crash Sea hooves upon their sands. A net of steely salt Pinions the springing streams of two, alone, And the high-mounting measures clench their phantom hands.
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