The bankruptcies of the ocean.

"I wish I was a fisherman"

-song

If envy we in decadence and crippling fortunes must

Let us crash then upon it, cast loopholed net wide upon the deep.

We could it's true go hungry

Or languish,

Irreversible and ambitious:

We might in marasmus perish, callus, or in cuts of salted sea

Fish and fruitlessly flesh away ...

We might anyhow pull the harvest back into our arms

Letting it disrupt the swollen

Bankruptcies

Of the ocean!

Go ahead,

Cast loopholed net wide--

For the arms--all arms, that fail to span the fingers merest search yet

Fail to suitably seek,

And, if only by withering suspicions,

Fail to find even a wavering perigee glow

Amid hungry

Pangs.