From the Waterfront the Horizon Always Is a You

the tongue of this impulse to race to rest
           —the torque
if every sun machetes one horizon       as every horizon
does one sun                                                  if spirals spiral
into more spirals                                                        in water set free
billows in earnest                                                  set free
   won't you stay
                     attuned for now
                             you to whom this white land of lather
forays, spun undone, you from whom it thrashes back