Now, that face he coursed
Beyond all the lapping
Voices, through linear deserts
Unfolds among peaks
Of frozen sea, the wave
Coiling upward its wrinkled grace.
Dumb cliffs tell their story, split and reveal
Fathomed straits. The body opens its locks.
Spying the crowded
Ocean graveyard, wrecks shifting
A sea mile to the west as the blow falls,
The traveller feels
His hair bend at the fresh weight
Of snow, the wind is an intimate fist
Brushing back strands: he stares at the wide mouth, packed
With grinding ash: the landslide of his first dream.