The speaker keeps repeating one verb, "I lean," and that leaning is the heart of the poem. It is a reaching toward another person, addressed as "alien man," from a place of deep loneliness. The speaker describes living and lying "alone," wanting a love that is balanced, with neither side only giving or only taking. The imagery is playful and strange: the other person is a "little hill of dreams" to sleep within and a "hydrant of hope" that lets something spring up fresh. Sound plays a big part too, with lots of echoing l's and made-up compounds like "otherwide rooms windowfilled."
The mood shifts as it goes. At first it feels yearning and a little dreamy, then more urgent as the speaker pushes past "barricades of isolation" and "feverish autonomy," meaning a self-reliance that has turned into a trap. The ending is the bluntest moment: "don't / don't lean away." After all that elaborate language, it sounds like a plain, vulnerable plea.