in cloud-scud moonlight glow
the Tower reels.
I, the blind man,
feeling for a path I know...
don't you know that I'm only feeling for how to feel?

Rats run.
Snakes coil.
Fathers,
stare out at the whispering night;
rub mud on their arms.

Spiders,
Mud boils,
Children
whimper in the human vortex;
faces glow of worms