BLEAK IS THE WORD FOR THE WORLD! 

ON THIS HIGH PLATEAU OF SOLITUDE 

THE DAWN FROST CHILLS THE BLOOD 

UNDER A SUNLESS, LOVELESS SKY. 

THROUGH WALLS, THE MURMUR OF TONGUES, 

THE HALF-TENDER TOUCH OF THE FEMALE, 

KISSES CAREFULLY PARCELED OUT, CARESSES 

BUDGETED, 

THOSE I LOVE SELF-SLAUGHTERED IN THE DARKNESS, 

MEAN, MISLEAD AND MISERABLE – 

EMMETT’S CORPSE FOR SALE IN CHICAGO 

KENYA WAITING FOR THE SUN. 

WHERE’S THE ONE WHO WILL COMFORT ME? 

WHERE IS SHE WHO WILL WARM THE DARK HOURS? 

WHERE THE LOVE, THE PASSION, AND THE PLAY, 

THE MIND AND THE BODY, 

THE SOUL AND THE SEX AND THE SMILE, 

INTERMINGLED, INTERWEAVING, BREATHLESS! 

WINE IS NO FRIEND TO MAN – MERELY 

A SUBSTITUTE FOR MIRACLES – 

BUT HEAVEN IS FAR AWAY, AND I AM HERE, 

AND THE WINE IS NEAR. 

SOMETIMES IT SOFTENS 

THE LONG DREAD REACHES OUT OF THE NIGHT HOURS 

SEALS UP THE CONSCIOUSNESS, 

SHUTS OUT THE FIERCER NOISES OF THE WORLD.