Then I would bear it clench myself and die
steeled with my pilgrimage’s pain the still eyes
in the dead face demon’s daughter beauty
born of love love indeed these carcass flies
and ash and funereal oak. Green bud, white
leaf, red snow. Tumble-down-dumble. The blade
lets slip my guts, cries havoc, as her night-
stained hands find a hold in my blood betrayed
O but why a big bush of elders. Dies
my why my why my why penetrating
deeper, dies my demons and false cherubs.
Dies this new faith, a three-person’d passion.
In the dirty snow you will find nothing
but meal worms fed on my blood and fat grubs.