You will meet it as a corner you cannot turn, a gate flung open, a muffled struggle offroad... in the woody murk where the old track hums under mulch and brambles. You will be a traveller in the midst, "alone". It will throw itself into your bag as a weight so heavy you cannot go on.

IT WILL BLOCK YOUR PATH IN THE BODY OF A BONE WHITE CALF OR LADY EYES LIKE SWOLLEN MOONS, IT'S VOICE THE SPLASH OF STONES THROWN IN DEEP WATER IT WILL HOWL.

It will carry its "coffin" or its "head" or its "child in its hands." It will follow you home. It will make you promises. You will try to rid your house of it - the radiant boy of it, heirloom drab of it you will take it still screaming, to sea, and drown it, you will bury it day after day and find it always back where it started, its lamp casting light through every window, its small "skull" shrieking..