Daphne

To hide from the mountains in the mountains. Sometimes we must grow still to save ourselves, become something utterly ordinary to be unseen, like a tree. But he waits, age upon age, for the moment when her hair will be let down, when the fruit shall fall into his lap. And in this way he becomes even more mesmerized, dazed. He thinks to himself, who is bound, who is free? The hunter has become the hunted!

Must something in us die before it can be loved? Which is to say, can there be the black and the red?


Wood holds together better
than sea or cloud or sand or cloud
much better than real sea or sand or cloud
It chose that way to grow and not to move

..while the light goes around it
like a prowling animal..

It may be solid, may be hollow
But it can shelter what is within (which after all
cannot have been intended to be seen).
---


Time, the deer, is in Hallaig Wood.I'll go to Hallaig,
To the sabbath of the dead,
Down to where each departed generation has gathered
Hallaig is where they survive.

Love's loaded gun will take aim.
It will bring down the lightheaded deer
As he sniffs the grass round the wallsteads
And his eyes will freeze: while I live,
His blood won't be traced in the woods

--Hallaig.