Lyrical Ballads

“I will not take upon me to determine the exact import of the promise which by the act of writing verse an Author, in the present day, makes to his Reader; but I am certain, it will appear to many persons that I have not fulfilled the terms of an engagement this voluntarily contracted.” – William Wordsworth (1770-1850).
 
Waking into dark waves of silence 
Ninety-thousand leagues below surface 

Her eyes cannot see,  
a shine or a shiver of me 

There comes a tear, a subtle unplugging
Flushing me through the blood-rust of piping
Out on a beach  
of dried eels and blistering weeds 

I cannot hide, I cannot recover
My shaking arms, her palms stabbed with fingers
Naked I flail,
Lobster imposing a scene 

And I wish to die, and the sun it came rising
With pistons so high, the steam scalding smiling 
Bleeding me dry 
My eyes jellied run into sea 

And there they’ll find, a body uncovered 
Virginal free, a choral of lovers 
Devouring me 
With eyes closed in deep ecstasy 

Her eyes cannot see,  
a shine or a shiver of me