A beast stands at my eye.

I cook my senses in a dark fire.
The old wombs rot and the new mother
Approaches with the footsteps of a world.

Who are the people of this unscaled heaven?
What beckons?
Whose blood hallows this grim land?
What slithers along the watershed of my human sleep?

The other side of knowing …
Caress of unwaking delight … O start
A sufficient love! O gently silent forms
Of the last spaces.

Analysis, meaning and summary of Kenneth Patchen's poem The Naked Land

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