A ghost is a thing repeated, a shade
that reappears with variations
the letter is a light black film
the cupboard swings upon hinges
the four-post bed is a coffin
on stone pillars
you don't know much of the case
at the other side
it's aisy, it's unkimminly quiet
a step or two from the screw stairs
it's all prate and vapour
on the croquet lawn
is it a pencilled word or just the veining
of the wood?
Necessity is the –
Necessity is the mo
Necessity is the moth
Necessity is the mother
you hear it as a half-aside on the forestage—
play your queen to the lead of spades
the clock has a blank face
the balustrade vaunts a demi-griffin
the path turns like a strip of tape
echo answers what? who is it
you want?
Your head is a house where spirits battle
and Sherry gives the the grin
to Green Tea
it might be a friar's hood
it might be a gabled hat
to baffle
or shake consumedly
the thought you want me to think
you think
who wouldn't be
touched in the upper story
if their wrist was seized
it's always a stare or a glare
in that snuggery
the same arch smile
in fits and fragments
if you have two they will
knock each other
and burst
a little domestic tremor
on the square screen
keeps pumping
down the street
an attendant gasp
bellying
a sparkish bartizan
to flip the villain
at the last shift
sweets snatched away
at the wolving of the organ
call for a laugh or a wrench
it's the doctor's dance
the pretender's trial
who's that spoke
give us kind keepers
A man may surely take a glass of wine
by his own fireside
Your fright scene
is the comic gag
re-versed