I have scanned the twilights
Lone stares for occupancy
To find certain regions
Of vacant possessions
The hands that refuse to hold
Eyes that refuse to behold
Some cracks within bones
The blood that circulates
In secret chambers of heart.

Call me from somewhere
Either from some distant stars
Or from their circulatory planets
I will go out with a sharp knife
To upturn the soils of compromise
There I may dig out naked agonies
Ready to burst in volcanic eruptions.

If I had some rugged claws
I will tear open the southern skies
Where I may find a muffled message
From outer limits of universal presence.