| Light breaks where no sun shines; | |
| Where no sea runs, the waters of the heart | |
| Push in their tides; | |
| And, broken ghosts with glow-worms in their heads, | |
| The things of light | 5 |
| File through the flesh where no flesh decks the bones. | |
| | |
| A candle in the thighs | |
| Warms youth and seed and burns the seeds of age; | |
| Where no seed stirs, | |
| The fruit of man unwrinkles in the stars, | 10 |
| Bright as a fig; | |
| Where no wax is, the candle shows its hairs. | |
| | |
| Dawn breaks behind the eyes; | |
| From poles of skull and toe the windy blood | |
| Slides like a sea; | 15 |
| Nor fenced, nor staked, the gushers of the sky | |
| Spout to the rod | |
| Divining in a smile the oil of tears. | |
| | |
| Night in the sockets rounds, | |
| Like some pitch moon, the limit of the globes; | 20 |
| Day lights the bone; | |
| Where no cold is, the skinning gales unpin | |
| The winter's robes; | |
| The film of spring is hanging from the lids. | |
| | |
| Light breaks on secret lots, | 25 |
| On tips of thought where thoughts smell in the rain; | |
| When logics dies, | |
| The secret of the soil grows through the eye, | |
| And blood jumps in the sun; | |
| Above the waste allotments the dawn halts. | 30 |