GOTHIC NOVEMBER NIGHT
nighttime the house moving all around me I’m here alone the family’s out I’m
listening to Mozart a fire shimmering as I read my Byron & Browning thinking
of Professor Elliot his long hair & long leather coat like bat wings he
taught me about the Romantic Poets making them come alive like this house
seems to be & I know of course this is my imagination playing tricks maybe
it’s the dog I’m hearing maybe it’s the heat clicking on but the walls I
don’t know they seem to be breathing oh my damn imagination but no there
does seem to be something moving around in here somewhere no can’t be
impossible oh-ho there it goes again but maybe it’s merely . .