Cool pools
from a tired land
sink now
in the peace of evening
Clouds weaken
and die.
The sun, an orange skull,
whispers quietly, becomes an
island, & is gone. There they are
watching
us everything
will be dark.
The light changed.
We were aware
knee-deep in the fluttering air
as the ships move on
trains in their wake.

The Lords and the New Creatures: Poems (1969)