gothic poetry

you are clear
old wine to drink
the long resounding marble corridors
i have cast the world
as a naked man i go
in the sphere
i bid them all farewell
i have seen the proudest stars
were it not for that singular smell
there by the window in the old house
within this lowly grave a conqueror lies
one by one, like leaves from a tree
from floor to ceiling
little park that i pass through