overarching angel--

guardian to this exile,

as love cut to the cliff.

a footfall from plunge--

grimaces at the stranding

long of the blue.

as if the sun were casting

the sparks of aspersions.

while simpering salts

season fish and devils--

wiling away their lot of depth.

if shore be shelter, let this no

man's land be worth spit!

as waste is laid the length of a

man without a woman's touch.