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LIVING
Dried up by reproaches
Drenched by doubts
That's thinking people everywhere
Deep in agitated fog
North, south, east, west, the world now
Is a heaped powder-magazine
Ears pricked
Eyes rubbed
Man's head at noon's height
Cannot find sleep
Chapel bells
At half past four's new morning
Drive off the pigeons
And from the woods
Evoke
Heart searing childhood scenes
Fallen here, mother gone,
Left with this dread of being alone
Dried up in flames
Time low-sunk
Wedged between men, living this loneliness
North, south, east, west, the world now
Is one great powder-magazine
And living
Is a chill wind.
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