the dream-time
darkness envelops
all the same

the other self
slipped by a shadow
you in I

death-dealt
night pierces
the anima heart

so much depends
upon fireworks
in the fog
of war

this! this!
nothing of night
not known

words writhe
to the serpentine grace
of my pen

in congress
with the ineffable
these words too

when time was new
and space a waking dream
the verb to be is

in the void
of non-sense
— nonsense