‘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