At Night
At night the Universe grows lean, sober- faced, of intoxication, The shadow of the half-sphere curtains down closely against my world, like a doorless cage, and the stillness chained by wrinkled darkness strains throughout the Uni- verse to be free. Listen, frogs in the pond, (the world is a pond itself) cry out for the light, for the truth! The curtains rattle ghostlily along, bloodily biting my soul, the winds knocking on my cabin door with their shadowy hands.