in the muscle of earth’s torus i once lay like a sun, unknowing.
unknown to me the knocking heart of my serpent mother. it is
the flaming dragon mouth that brought me forth out of the atom,
the aevum, locus and time, which by my backward glance i make.
oh with my whole heart, o wounded king, my friend, my sister owl,
and my brother swan, i want the gods! i seize my being-spun wand
and climb it, crying out ‘come! help us lir! o lovely lugh! o brighid
so marified! cernunnos gentled! esus treed with pain!
i’ve seen wan faces haunting cages of bone. i am the splintering
souls of devils; i have them under my wings. i find the weary ground
too full of its soaked up pain to soak up more. gods of war,
have pity! the rocks give back pain; the plains are poxed with pain!
i am the paining atom sucked by reluctant aevum, and the sucking aevum.
if time stood still, locus would flow. (oh, time stands still,
damp-feathered hatchling!) but oh, the irony ache in my widow’s eye,
in my cripple’s handshake, in the sick, sad flesh of all my beings.