The Quivering Of Psyche's Butterflies.

War Is A Fevered God Who Takes Alike Maiden And King And Clod.

My Eye-balls Are Glass, My Limbs Marble, My Face Fixed In Its Marble Mask.

There Is No Man Can Take, There Is No Pool Can Slake, Ultimately I Am Alone; Ultimately I Am Done.

Let Love Step Down, Open The Clasped Hands, Forfeit The Thorny Crown, Retrieve The Garment That Was Whole, Body And Spirit One, Spirit And Soul.

For You Are Abstract, Making No Mistake, Slurring No Word In The Rhythm You Make, The Poem, Writ In The Air.