Here, upon coils transfusing despair,
We alighted: pigeons in dusk, pigeons over dawn
Entombed within golden steeples
Amid the spread of days
Emerging upon the cloud-napery,
Mountaintop wicks, sorrows for bowls, hands for hands

Odor of nostalgia infused,
From waking and slumbers
Among daydreams of spindles and thyme

I called you Andromeda with infinite-crystal tenderness
And anguish’s waves liquidated your sweetness
As if a port. You were in everything, filling everything:
Torn hearts, lovemaking dewdrops, ivy-sufferings
I called you maniacal, Maria, Mary, mine