A vision.it reads:
Into the night, I went walking
Searching for a not-feeling
Not feeling that sense reeling
At the pitchdarkness balking
Thinking instead, in my head
Non-thinking of not-dread.
But what man is a mind only
He is not a man; nor woman
Who would not come undone
At the insinuation of ungainly
Half asleep, forms imagined or real
Flat dark from darkness steal?
A tree's slow motion may suggest
Or the form of forsaken dog warding
The deep brain's wrongness recording
Throwing alarm, driving unrest
Do we or do we not see the mottled shape
Do we walk on or dash to escape?
The large things of old night
Perhaps hiding in the ample fold
Of the crease between the new and old
Just waiting just out of sight
At the crunch or low growl we learn
To walk steady, but never return.