ISSUE: Winter 1984
When the strangeness comes over me
and I am a wolf or less
lonely for meat
taken on the hoof
you should see how I lock
myself away.
A great door separates me
from the world
my table is empty
even of cloth
of candles
my window is barred to the sun
that heap of ashes
is the place I sleep
that closet called the world
with only the blackness there
where I am gone to.
