Sadness, scarab

        ,

        spiderweb egg,

        scramble-brained rat,

        bit:

        ry here.

        Dont e in.

        Go away.

        Go back

        south your umbrella,

        go back

        norts teeth.

        A poet lives here.

        No sadness may

        cross threshold.

        these windows

        es the world,

        fresh red roses,

        flags embroidered h

        tories of the people.

        No.

        ry.

        Flap

        your bats wings,

        I rample thers

        t fall from your mantle,

        I s and pieces

        of your carcass to

        the wind,

        I will wring your neck,

        I itc,

        I will sew your shroud,

        sadness, and bury your rodent bones

        beime of an apple tree.
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