A ghost is a thing repeated, a shade
that reappears with variations

the letter is a light black film

the cupboard swings upon hinges

the four-post bed is a coffin
on stone pillars

you don't know much of the case
at the other side

it's aisy, it's unkimminly quiet
a step or two from the screw stairs

it's all prate and vapour
on the croquet lawn

is it a pencilled word or just the veining
of the wood?

Necessity is the –
Necessity is the mo
Necessity is the moth
Necessity is the mother

you hear it as a half-aside on the forestage—
play your queen to the lead of spades

the clock has a blank face
the balustrade vaunts a demi-griffin
the path turns like a strip of tape

echo answers what? who is it
you want?

Your head is a house where spirits battle
and Sherry gives the the grin
to Green Tea

it might be a friar's hood
it might be a gabled hat
to baffle

or shake consumedly
the thought you want me to think
you think

who wouldn't be
touched in the upper story
if their wrist was seized

it's always a stare or a glare
in that snuggery

the same arch smile
in fits and fragments

if you have two they will
knock each other
and burst

a little domestic tremor
on the square screen
keeps pumping

down the street
an attendant gasp

a sparkish bartizan
to flip the villain
at the last shift

sweets snatched away
at the wolving of the organ
call for a laugh or a wrench

it's the doctor's dance
the pretender's trial

who's that spoke
give us kind keepers

A man may surely take a glass of wine
by his own fireside

Your fright scene
is the comic gag