A confined structure, just like the ailment.

I Know

     For my friend

I am constrained to tell you of my woe

You, proud Swede, erudite you—woe

About such plague that vexes in your veins

Hiding diffidently, roaming deep

Shading your shadow with implications

I am in a state of distraction, res angusta domi

You, good Friend, high-minded you—distraction

By eclipse of your round levity, and the tears

Elaborating your exile, blunt tears, holy

By the incongruous you; yes it’s true

I am out of humor, there is none more sound than

You, militant Saint, zany you—humor

Still, from your vertical depths, unleashed

Where vis vitae was built upon a precipice

The milieu of you, sure you, koo koo

I am lonely; can it be my friend has left?

You, generous Cynic, Spartan you—lonely

As a skull in pensive mood, dolorosamente

As a crier in your wilderness, but I

I will not raise a hue and cry about you

I am calm.  The very thought of you

You, true-hearted One, honest you—calm

I know the river’s peaceful end ahead

I know the sanctuary songs begin again

You’ll sleep tonight, though dark, and then