No stranger to the faith of eyes
asleep under the surgeon's lancet,
to time gambled with every try

Who's to say where the man ends,
the world begins; what it is
that wakes him in a visible sweat,

You were sculpted on a prow,
Time wore you away as the foam might have done,
It closed your eyes one stormy night,

Doubly silent the afternoon
By virtue of empty summer, and of a flame
Overflowing, is it from this vase

Knock,
Knock forever.

In the lure of the threshold.

It’s dawn. Has this lamp finished, then,
Its task of hope, hand resting
In the mirror fogged up over the fever

After I make my home dark
I wander through the few
quiet rooms and let
the bright blinking eyes
of the continuing electricity

Hawk free of jess,
the diver springs
toward fire no son can bear,

Like a seal 
in broken sleep, 
aware of how

In hill fire Fall
come home from sea,
I climb the shoal