‘Two darks, one night, open eyes’       Two darks, one night, open eyes, an ochre moon that, heavy, widens as it wanes, defines the thorn-bush on the line of heath, yields the paths where there are none, lights names on forms which never were entities by day; strong-flowing darks, gulfs of untold time: lakes of pasts unshaped by words: here, night-recalled. Identity, the living narrow of the day-turned timeglass, restituted in the night.       Changes, Days, Lives: titles and first lines