Now it is time for building houses: when
the beast shall speak to his landscape and be beckoned,
and all trees shout and leap at us, and men
be towers running: night around us reckoned
by belting winds, faces and bodies breaking 
dangerous ways into each other: fear
in the streaming field, rage in the air,
and the anger of the wicked bell awaking.

Time to use doors: when trusted objects crouch
always behind us; horror in the bed,
or smiling at windows; eyes as deft as fencers.

Time to tie cities down and trap the watch.
For now that evil rides upon his blood
the beat speaks, and the alien landscape answers.