if it is kind to build to make it just
the possible is put-together but keep on laughing
in the adjustable crack
out the window the waiting the storm opening
focus

the which in the door you gave me
above roof thundered
too narrow at the shakes where a beam
of midnight empties
looking through the keyhole at the flashes of lightning

that is something like pain
which perhaps makes it likely
to be blown away

I am awake reading through the night
which means I can not close the lesson
in fact the room
locks me in

who to all I hear through the skin
someone close
footsteps
the where walking in my house

I eyes
and the paint keeps wet
depending floor blinks
and hearing upon the boards is the dream

the noises where secret went up naked inside
tears the language the light falling hurricane
is of ghost
the bulb
and which the beam is in the answer to the wind

the creaking pulverized this message
and so too of my noon passing