This college campus extension,
one building only, formerly part
of the asylum on these asylum grounds.
The classrooms, converted patients’
quarters and beneath us the tunnels.
Such horror and history. We’re like
the city atop the buried city, the students
could pickax and shovel into quieted
collected voices of the mad, and madhouse
keepers, instead of drudging through MLA
documentation. We’re like a parallel universe
of institutions, like Roethke’s sad pencils.