I’ll tell you what I’ve found amidst the sands,
The whooping breeze, the barren seas, a dune
To sit a miserable heap, too dry to stand.
I’ll tell you what I saw against the moon,
A frightening beast, not yet deceased, with teeth
Like swords and eyes of amber, whimpering tune.
I’ll tell you what I’ve heard betwixt the trees
While shadows long, the day far gone, a word
Too cruel, too sad, depleting; listen: wheeze.
I’ll tell you what I’ve felt–but no, absurd;
My secrets sleep, indeed I keep compiled,
Locked up, away, the answers, this, deferred.
And how it breaks, with gasping aches, waste–wild–
So savage, feral, barbarous; still yet, beguiled