These seem like bristles, and the hide is tough. No claw or web here: each foot ends in hoof.
Moly (l. 9-10)
Direct me gods, whose changes are all holy, To where it flickers deep in grass, the moly.Thom Gunn
Thus for each blunt-faced ignorant one The great grey rigid uniform combined Safety with virtue of the sun. Thus concepts linked like chainmail in the mind.Thom Gunn
One joins the movement in a valueless world, Choosing it, till both hurler and the hurled, One moves as well, always toward, toward.Thom Gunn
My thoughts are crowded with death and it draws so oddly on the sexual that I am confused confused to be attracted by, in effect, my own annihilation.Thom Gunn
Distorting hackneyed words in hackneyed songs He turns revolt into a style, prolongs The impulse to a habit of the time.Thom Gunn