Like snow man comes along a narrow path under her lids. He covers everything. Man is snow. 9 Saving the tracks. Unlock the last traces of bird in us . . .
Sprouting seeds rend the earth.
Wait right where they burst through and a green sprout rips open the skin of darkness. I have no stone to smooth hands, no water so hungry that it searches for a mouth. 10 Only a trace of wind in the wings, only the long robes of woman with a red mark of love, there even God would lay down his rage and become wind in the wings, a red mark on the long robes, a double-edged blade, a bird pouring its entire strength into a winged embrace and his irretrievable song. 11 Dreams are woman's only consolation. 12 Man's face.