In these nights
when the hellhounds are bound
to sleuth and slaver,
to bark upon the stench
of wounds that remained open
with anguish and with blood
(But nothing permeates
the hollow dome of silencen
I feel the sea surge
it abysses to its surface
and louder than your blunder bluss
I shiver for this calm
and unlimited pretense
that inexorably gravitates
a sudden madness
Norman Santos
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/impermeable/
