Classic Poem

From here
all the way there
no one at all.

Above a black
stream, on a stone
bridge where moonlight collapses,
in this strangely beautiful house,
cloudy with breath,
no one at all.

Dark,
the midst of an old dream
of my twisted limbs crushed
by the coin rolling
round in the moon
is dark,
and on the road running
away from me
dying
in blue-dyed brain,
no one at all.