On The Côte Sauvage.
The Atlantic gale that now abrades the Côte Sauvage
stirs the savage skin as it has done since men dared raise
these broken menhirs to the god that pounds the broken cliffs
with wind and wave and the loud cry of the gulls.
On how many such wild cliffs must the soul walk,
suspended between the sea and stone, before it travels free
the breathless passages of space unmeasured by our pulse
or earth's rotation to the sun or moon's,