Black the night. Deep seamless oh-dark-thirty.
Armor. Eyes in a gunbarrel. Unseen
Black falls from overhead upon the head
I think, and kills the view— a guillotine.

Black like a facelift given by the blind,
Thick to the eye, to breath. Black dense as bars
That block all wind and cloud or shape of mind
That could discover such a thing as stars.

Opaque tar black. Heading from overhead
Or ground up from the ground? I wouldn't know.
Black jets gushed, hardened to obsidian.
A firm-surged wall. Whether I come or go

Black ramparts close in, solitarily
Confine me and corral me. Blind and dumb
I grope and cling against the wall. I feel
Bastille about me, whether I go or come.

Benighted thus against this wall and faced
With tar that has killed space, I can't be right
To think I do not disbelieve in life
In noise, in light. I burrow. Black the night.

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