We lack lack,

have no nothing,

we're out of out of,

empty of empty,

finished with finished;

we hunger for hunger,

thirst for thirst,

are longing for longing,

missing missing

The day combs its sleety hair

with the northern wind;

the spruces' dance

a coniferous rave party

One of my thoughts stands deserted

up on a distant bog,

with no expectations

Silence stands still, listening

Aft of the Great Ship of Dreams

up in the western bedroom:

A housefly's intermittent buzz garland

up the chill of the balcony window in October:

Too late for that now