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

It 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.