This rich experiment ran out
Of beakers and Bunsen burners. I wore my glasses
And lab coat to little avail.
No blue moon in the cupboard tonight.
So much for the well worn thesis. Here's where it runs out of gas.
Only tinkling flowers
And bare rhapsody, Shivering
Like a ****** in the night.
It's here, and here, and here,
Places I can only show
In the dark.
Things which have no name.
But here, and here,
Feel their shape?
Dim, Oslo in the rain.
And the Nazis occupy
The last of the city.
It's here, and here, and here.
It's nowhere, nothing.
Dry places, bones of dust.
It's here, and here, and here.