The carvings
In the tympanum
Above the
Door
The Star of David
Etched
Upon the
Floor
The Tarot's
Tower
That feeds the
Querant's dread.
And birds
That hit my window
Fall down
Dead.
The totem
Snakes
That speak to me
At night
And black
Cats
Arch their backs
When I’m in sight
The feeling in  
My gut
That all’s
Not well
And Rorschach
Blots
That shape
An inky hell.

My minds a maze
Where thoughts run
Round and round
They pick up speed
Like jets that
Leave the ground
A sonic boom
Of waves that pass
Through sound  
*But the noise
Of what I dread
Is only loud.