Here’s where we see what the day owes the night

Here’s where we see what the day owes the night:

this hall that’s nowhere in my father’s house;

here, where the guardian shadows just might,

with the cannibal chants, shut my wolf dreams out.

Time’s too short to cut with a mad scalpel:

already the autumn o’ phantoms creeps,

breathing flight in the swallows o’ Kabal

& winter winds in North Sea balconies.

The love, the fantasy, they can’t hide in

the attack that always breeds the dying.

Prompt:

Algeria, hall, schedule