In the long drought
Impotence clutched on the veins of passion
Encircles our bed, a serpent of stone.
. . . . . . .
...
Some seed in me,
Some troublous birth,
Like an awkward awakening,
stirs into life
...
(excerpt from Everson's memorial for Robinson Jeffers)
Snow on the headland,
The strangely beautiful
Oblique concurrence
...