Winter encloses me,
I am fenced
The light the laugh the dance
Against.
I am like a monk
In a grey cell
Copying out my soul's
Queer miracle
What goes on out there
In the light
Is less than [] blue-bottle's flirtation
Yet, spite
I would be a blue-bottle
Or a house-fly
And let the monk the []
In cobwebs lie.
