Figure D5 TUNNEL

From pricking ozone glare, toward the south,

We tread a steep defile: a rising howl

Of wind is heard to fret the cavern’s mouth:

A rudely formed and stalactited cowl.

The gale, irregular, as if a foul

And giant creature were by croup annoyed,

Like borborygmus in a Titan’s bowel

As matter settles, breaks, and is destroyed:

The stuttered gale portends that we approach a VOID.