the offing   its  return  between   a  shape
and  shapes  an  edge so else that earth  foot-shod drops paces on our heels
     — shuffle  loose  slight  halts   faltering
                                      takes  itself  apart with a twist  of  the  wrist
                   round widdershins  and wards  away   what  remains  of  fever  following
                                                                           to  fold  us  spent  against  the westwork  granite
                                              etched  in  the  measure   of  our origins.  Sought losses
                                                              on tether to shrill
                              fulfillment and  what
                                                                  stirs
                                                      in  stone
                                   summons   present  from the time and there
           our vows confound in  fumes  pale  clamor
                    enchanted-lanterned  like  nosuchplace
                                            no  such   when
                                                    a  nave  of  haymakers  heavy to kneel
                                                                                 deep slouch and  crowded rummage
                                                                 and  we  call  to stars
                                                              like  living things.