Meanwhile, the mole goes on with its subterranean daydreams, The dogs lie around like rugs - Charles Wright

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Meanwhile, the mole goes on with its subterranean daydreams,
The dogs lie around like rugs

English
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Additional quotes by Charles Wright

A cicada whines,
his voice
Starting to drown through the rainy world,
No ripple of wind,
no sound but his song of black wings,
No song but the song of his black wings.

Such emptiness at the heart,
such emptiness at the heart of being,

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Friday beneath the sky, its little postcards of melancholy
Outside each window,
the engines inside the roses at half speed,
The huge page of the sea with its one word despair,
Fuchsia blossoms littered across the deck,
Unblotted tide pools of darkness beneath the ferns …
And still I go on looking,
match after match in the black air.

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