Anticipation

Moon, Moon, see what I give you, moon. an offering, as images Hitherto quiescent in their primal darkness Writhe upward from the writhing mind Like sacrificial smoke. For now my mind avid for the sea Destined to replace it surges like that surface Under the cool frenzy of your midnight glow And unsettles to the point where I Rehearse the end pursued: first, My tossing on reflected horns; then after, sunk In lucent ambiences where your pull Unfurls the seaweed's banner from my spine And where my vacant skull can measure out Eternity in grains of sand. Wholly dissolved, draw me up loosely Till poised in an exquisite crest I indicate the centre where your forces gather. Moon, moon, see what I give you, moon. To little purpose is the blood I offer: Burdened with a death still unachieved, I sometimes tremble when my diapason swells, Being inwardly aware that I But reinforce its absence by these words Restored again by your affective light. But I approach the headlong fall, the pitch Which happens as the dream exhausts its depths. Meantime I keep on waiting unfulfilled, A rotten fruit that moulders from the core. Moon, moon, what more can I give you, moon?