I
We are planets, you and I,
Moving to harmonies outside ourselves reflecting
Inward.
I am the Soul on which this Hill is shapen.
There in the rhyll is found nothing key.
I am here. Golden Boy.
Acorss a sandtstrand, low Hullwater.
Father afieldt on Hornsea flats
or northward (to) a bleak-ness
Signed in sod, salt and sea.
II
Turn. Look here. See. smoothsoftlight
I know this silted place,
where salt is a stain to taste
proof is a burden,
spite is a sliver
and God is Light.
