Sunday, 29 July 2012


They move through thickly interwoven undergrowth only remembering the old songs

Like that morning when star and moon had attached to your wrists and nothing could end the night

They have neatly folded away a tablecloth. in its secret receptacle it seems to make billowing sounds and to remind them of the sea

They sit with their backs to trees and write in dapper yellow notebooks

When you recognised a stark incommensurability – night with its featureless cornucopia, nothing with its spare and elegant annihilator’s face

Overnight everything vanished. everything remained where it was, arc lights burning darkly bright


we were tied down on metal and rubber beds
reality injection
terrible cold coming in through the window bars
waves spinning round in clamped down pools
slowly the white day gave way to a violet night
footsteps stalked the corridors their bodies lifetimes behind them
our lips began to flower and text-ribbons billowed out into the silent streets
       where police sirens howled and dogs danced
we were each issued with a little paper hat
we looked at our paper hatted heads in greeny mirrors and chuckled at nothing
they wheeled the beds out into the corridor
they helped us on with our coats
the door slammed behind us
we tramped out into the countryside
the fields were populated with giant crows
we ran down a path until we came to a railway line
it was overgrown and disused
a train came along o so slowly
we clambered on board
we wrote down all the dreams we’d inherited on the backs of our companions’ necks
the train vanished with us inside
the sun came up and with it the world

No comments:

Post a Comment