Growing green, gathered golden
pounded once, put from my tower
to life lifeless, and be broken on the stones below
'til tiny bones bury them, warm winter snow
wandering into water, salt-soaked, 'til summer's 
burning blaze boxes me in, infernal floor
of murderous metal, offering odors in homage
to the cruel cavern casket-swallower, which welcomes me.

October 1, 1985