How shall my animal

How shall my animal
Whose wizard shape I trace in the cavernous skull, 
Vessel of abscesses and exultation’s shell,
Endure burial under the spelling wall,
The invoked, shrouding veil at the cap of the face, 
Who should be furious,
Drunk as a vineyard snail, flailed like an octopus, 
Roaring, crawling, quarrel 
With the outside weathers,
The natural circle of the discovered skies 
Draw down to its weird eyes?

How shall it magnetize,
Towards the studded male in a bent, midnight blaze 
That melts the lionhead’s heel and horseshoe of the heart,
A brute land in the cool top of the country days 
To trot with a loud mate the haybeds of a mile,
Love and labour and kill
In quick, sweet, cruel light till the locked ground sprout out, 
The black, burst sea rejoice,
The bowels turn turtle,
Claw of the crabbed veins squeeze from each red particle 
The parched and raging voice ?

Fishermen of mermen
Creep and harp on the tide, sinking their charmed, bent pin 
With bridebait of gold bread, I with a living skein,
Tongue and ear in the thread, angle the temple-bound 
Curl-locked and animal cavepools of spells and bone,
Trace out a tentacle,
Nailed with an open eye, in the bowl of wounds and weed 
To clasp my fury on ground And clap its great blood down;
Never shall beast be born to atlas the few seas 
Or poise the day on a horn.

Sigh long, clay cold, lie shorn,
Cast high, stunned on gilled stone; sly scissors ground in frost 
Clack through the thicket of strength, love hewn in pillars drops 
With carved bird, saint, and sun, the wrackspiked maiden mouth 
Lops, as a bush plumed with flames, the rant of the fierce eye, 
Clips short the gesture of breath.
Die in red feathers when the flying heaven’s cut,
And roll with the knocked eaith:
Lie dry, rest robbed, my beast.
You have kicked from a dark den, leaped up the whinnying light, 
And dug your grave in my breast.