Yet these waves crashing their drear tempest 'pon the land Are overcoming darkly, dashed anxieties Battering the bleakness to sediment and sand Scattering the beacons of drowned priorities
And the excellent North Is a path for your wind Seems to sigh for your view Streaks your bacon fry sky Like a fugitive gasp Through your hungering wings Deliver the scratch
And I know if I do say "Black" It is eternal so Each yesterday evolves tomorrow Into a bleaker, weaker sorrow It is infernal woe These silences are thunder-hearted I cannot raise my lids
Just a word Two Or a few Nothing further from intellect and emotion and HOWL They'll break your heart Shat-shattered, empty Little feeling Like the day in September