To stop the darkness leaning in
I drop the blinds
And shut the winter out, but not the mood:
Still starving for a wider woe,
I’ve swallowed all
The emptiness outside the house, need more
Than gulfs where galaxies disappear,
A void so perfect
The heart’s hammer breaks on nothingness.
There I might rest, or else confess
I never can,
Ill-omened and forever malcontent.