One need not be a Chamber-to be Haunted-
One need not be a House-
The Brain had Corridors- surpassing
Material Place-

Far safer, of a Midnight Meeting
External Ghost
Than its interior Confronting-
That Cooler Host.

Far safer, through an Abbey gallop,
The Stones a'chase-
Than Unarmed, one's a'self encounter-
In lonesome Place-

Ourself behind ourself, concealed-
Should startle most-
Assassin hid in our Apartment
Be Horror's least.

The Body- borrows a Revolver-
He bolts the Door-
O'erlooking a superior spectre-
Or More-


Why is it you read something once and then ages later it comes back to bear some meaning on your life at that particular moment when it occurs to you to remember it? I immediately took to this poem, one of the first ever Emily Dickinson poems I ever came across, but today it came back to me... I uttered the words under my breath and I thought.... where did that come from? WEIRD! heehee... Anyway, this poem makes me feel, slightly oddly, better... I guess on days like this I know how Emily Dickinson felt. However, no more dwelling... up and on as I have already said! Get the stone rolling...