the steel that sleeps the eye needs nor tax nor toll the kings with men might lie swollen and halo d her sweetest skin burns now i ve buried all the gold beneath my hide now i ll swallow breath with blood of pole and anchor of stone and mitre of god and beast and wine and piss and bread and fish and man the virgin ground stains now we ve wandered through the polestar s dusty floe and my crown is breath and blood1