In the oppressive cloud hid
The descent of basalt and of lava
In the same slavish echoes
Of a snout without virtue

What sepulchral sinking (you
Know it, foam, but drool there)
Supreme among the other flotsam
Abolishes the undressed mast

Or that which the furious fault
Of some high distress
Vainly opens, the entire abyss

In the hair so white that drags
Tight-fistedly, has drowned
The flank, child of a siren

07/22/08