All the weird shapes that take over
When the brain shuts off,
And slices of words that do not count
As they hang in the air -
And hover.

Shifting the moral
From wrong to worse,
And using up all their power,
Those books have caused trouble -
For their songs were always oral.

Set fire!
They say, as I pass their place,
In my dreams or not,
Fire to the grey cloud.
And I do –
And I join in their choir.