We lack lack,
have no nothing,
we're out of out of,
empty of empty,
finished with finished;
we hunger for hunger,
thirst for thirst,
are longing for longing,
missing missing

The day combs its sleety hair
with the northern wind;
the spruces' dance
a coniferous rave party

One of my thoughts stands deserted
up on a distant bog,
with no expectations

Silence stands still, listening

Aft of the Great Ship of Dreams
up in the western bedroom:
A housefly's intermittent buzz garland
up the chill of the balcony window in October:

Too late for that now