The Eye

If I hold my breath and
close my eyes
on certain nights
the bathysphere descends
on a string of perfect pearls...

Deep down past reason
past all sense and spontaneity
past a graveyard
of scuttled ships
and all the drowned sorrows of my days,
past treachery and spite,
there
uncoiling at vast
tectonic scale
a jealous eye is opening.

Leave me here
please let me rest
fathomless
unsoundable
radio silent
in a thousand atmospheres of you.