MY HOUSE STANDS TO THE SIDE ...

MY HOUSE STANDS TO THE SIDE,
I DON'T KNOW ANYTHING

So begins this rain;
dogs bark in conjecture.
Sound swells blue, out, up and over
this butter town. These harvested plots.
This bleak country entire.

In unfamiliar constellations
these few stars are in this moment
blotted out.

Such are these nights.