I LOOK at
the swaling sunset
And wish I could go also
Through the red doors beyond
the black-purple bar.
I wish that
I could go
Through
the red doors where I could put off
My shame like shoes in
the porch,
My pain like garments,
And leave my flesh discarded
lying
Like luggage
of some departed traveller
Gone one knows not
where.
Then I would
turn round,
And
seeing my cast-off body lying like lumber,
I would
laugh with joy.