Time prickled In my bones, tickled My lonely cave retreat. It was sweet To forget, upon this new planet, Everything but my new vanity. All the rules here were so parochial, But I never felt broke. Ellipses Round the sun swung under me, until I forgot my ice-milk home, quilted Whiteness, vague, recalled Shapes of celestial aldermen. My doubled eyes flew open. Here I learned to cope and– Like the frog hunched in the pond Whose half-immersed, wandering Eyes see below a green and misty realm And, above, the vaulting elms Clear as the sound of rat-tat-tatting Woodpeckers–saw this and that! Ingrown Sleep ceased. The beast Of the forest snuffling, Ruffling His back hairs At the foot of the spiral stairs Lifted his muzzy snout And let out A snort, a roar, And wept like the River Jordan. And I walked amidst men, Men of the clouds, at attention, Ram-rod Stiff, hosanna-ing God, And men of the wadis and deltas, Of the Congo of hell, tussling Husked boars, men of the silver-skinned Coast, of the eye-tearing wind. And all that remained Was, with these stained Hands, to be kind, To mind My P's and Q's, To recuse Myself from all conflicted Interests, and interdicted Judgements. I had to budge. Tents That I had set up Were a**aulted by the wind without let-up, And the keen Cold cleanness Prickles in my skin and nerves, Swerves, trickles, in a trice, An icicle rivulet Down my spine, And I give you this old wine, Which burns and warms, inside, The lazing lion's pride.