A Houyhnhnm's Scrapbook/Number 1/Manuel Keezar

(Arkham would honor me becapped and gowned—
No more the cry of “Devil’s-get” and “Witch” …
Not just the moon but all the sky around
Blazed with white levin when I threw the switch …
But torn dark flapped on obscene depths that steamed
With meaningless Things poised between hate and flight
To That beyond … and Thomas Perry screamed
And went on screaming till I smashed the light …)

Bars on the windows—ticking stuffed with straw—
Cardboard to eat from—paper when I drink …
I saw—I don’t remember what I saw—
Only this nauseous horror when I think …
At full the bloated moon is much too near,
But they are most considerate of me here.