I fellowed sleep who kissed me in the brain,
Let fall the tear of time; the sleeper's eye,
Shifting to light, turned on me like a moon.
So, planning-heeled, I flew along my man
...
Read full text
My fathers' ghost is climbing in the rain. Great poem.
There is much to unpack here, but I will say that this is metrical poetry with much compact poetry that would take some time to go through and much space.