Whose is the hand I will hold? is the face I will see? Whose is the name I will call, when I am called to thee?
In life, who did you love, beneath the ashes, beneath the sheeting of air that barrenly our rations?
I could speak, it was too late. Didn't you me calling? you see my heart leap, like a pup in the barley?
In life, where did you crouch, when the sky had set to within, seen from without, and gut was a serpent, coiling.
And, for the sake of pit of snakes, for did you allay your shyness, and spend all mercy, and madness, and grace, in a day, beneath the bending
It was not on principal. Show, Pro-heart, that you got gall. A I can a lot, but not that pall.
I can a lot, but not that pall! Kingfisher, the alarm. Say, "Sweet darlin, now, to my arms; tell me all the love you on the farm."
He was a kind, man a heavy lip and a steady hand, but he loved me just like a little like a little child loves a lamb.
to the ground, by something down by the bad air, while the clouds trying to all the signs, preparing for the bombs hit; hung from the of the earth, while the skid away, below, and brakeless, gravel-loose, falling silent as in the snow
I lay back and my chaw, wrapped in the arm of the Law, who has it all: I can a lot, but not that pall.
I can a lot, but not that pall! Kingfisher, your fly: oh, Lord, it without even trying, when I sling a low my shuttering eye.
Blows rain the one you loved, and, though you only sparring, there's on the eye. the glove. Say, I am not sorry.
here and name the one you loved, beneath the ashes, and, in naming, rise time, as it, flashing, passes.
We by the boatload, and immobilized: volcanoes, the loping skies. The of the earth us bound, and calcified, and made as as obsidian, unmoving, save our just and blinking from marked with coal. (Ash cooling and cracks as thunder rolling.) I I know you. You know me. Where have we met me true: to whose do you consign your
I had a dream you to me, You shall not do me anymore, and your knife, you evicted my from its lighthouse on the seashore.
And I saw that my had no bounds, in a circle like an atom bomb, soaking and in its path, and in my heart like a birdbath.
It is too the day we are born, we with our dying. to serve, with the of a child; kingfisher, lie the lion.