Goat’s Feet

Some distance from the wayside of a harbor
I lingered here in this ardor
To carry on the mire
A flame of azure fire

Searched for the young kid lost in the marrow
Drowning, while distant Yarrow
To look upon the tweed
Of goat’s foundered seed

On shelves we held our devils
On shelves that we disheveled
On shelves we held at bevels
Disheveled befell our devils

Many miles north of the furthest earthen pole
Lies womb and birth the toll
To pay is far preceding
The hour lies there bleeding

Rusted at the bottom of the old stone well
On the faded collar his bell
To mingle with despair
Adolescent disrepair

On shelves we held our devils
On shelves that we disheveled
On shelves we held at bevels
Disheveled befell our devils

Gated with a white cross of elephant bone
The place where I took you home
To mirror my dance depleted
Shadow you never defeated

Shelves that were disheveled
Abounding with your devils