In your wistful tired eyes I see the trembling of her shawl as she breathes.
The Pillar
When your house grows too close for you,
When the ceilings lower themselves, crushing you,
There on the porch I shall wait,
Outside your house.
You shall lean against my straightness,
And let night surge over you.
The Pathos of Proximity[1]
Alexander S. Kaun