Leviathan, Bound

the hollow light

is still on the fields

where the winter has warmed

and the snows have drained away

and the hunter's cry

is still on the air

as the bullet flies home

but the heart that's pierced with it

still is racing

still is racing, alone.

the silver shoals

of the light in the deep

brush the glitterin skein

where the great, dark body writhes

and the trembling jaw

the unfathoming sounds

of leviathan, bound

as his heart, though weakening

still is racing

still is racing, alone

you are racing

you are racing,

alone.