The Beloved

I wondered, since we talked about the beloved. Is there a beloved in this poem? Well there always is. I love that sort of little wing little creek little bay dark hour you know you set us up and then change with the little. There's something about the destroyer or the rough beast or something feasting on this blood. A terrible angel perhaps. Oh my God! The gods have come down to us and look what they've done. Come down wherever you are.