Who owns those scrawny little feet… Who owns this bristly scorched—loo… Who owns these still—working lungs… Who owns this utility coat of musc… Who owns these unspeakable guts?…

Terrifying are the attent sleek th… More coiled steel than living– a p… Dark deadly eye, those delicate le… Triggered to stirrings beyond sens… a stab

I imagine this midnight moment’s f… Something else is alive Beside the clock’s loneliness And this blank page where my finge… Through the window I see no star:

The moon not o be named Going over, clear of all poetry, The exhauster of the poetical Faculties of our race, surrenderin… Of her fourth day rights, ignores…

Freezing dusk is closing Like a slow trap of steel On trees and roads and hills and a… That can no longer feel. But the carp is in its depth

Stirs its ashes and embers, its bu… An eye powdered over, half melted… Ponders Ideas that collapse At the first touch of attention

The tractor stands frozen —an agon… To think of. All night Snow packed its open entrails. No… A spill of molten ice, smoking sno… Pours into its steel.

Crow, feeling his brain slip, Finds his every feather the fossil… Who murdered all these? These living dead, that root in hi… Till he is visibly black?

Once upon a time there was a perso… He was walking along He met the full burning moon Rolling slowly twoards him Crushing the stones and houses by…