This last continent
Still to be discovered.
My hand is dreaming, is building
Its ship. For crew it takes
A pack of bones, for food
A beer-bottle full of blood.
It knows the breath that blows north.
With the breath from the west
I will sail east each night.
The scent of your body as it sleeps
Are the land-birds sighted at sea.
My touch is on the highest mast.
It cries at four in the morning
For a lantern to be lit
On the rim of the world.