there are many women
on the moon waiting to
love u;  & willing to fly
into the sun w/o Icarus;
her romantic fog is a     |
cloudy bank's bottom    |
her starfish aglow; ama,
lost race of loving seas
warm inland soup of only
eyes in a seething froth of
a mother mariner's tailfin
I see her bottom |           |
& halo
at once     in the span of all  time
things repetitiously female
in the rain of     bodies; oh,
                  for soul & soul
alone for u I seek the four winds;
        are the spacious
angel, I seek above | all
others, so