In dream: You are there As the tip of the tongue collapses towards the teeth And the waters of dream mass around You are there: You are there Suddenly and silently You are the force of the wave And birds, all birds, reel in the distance Their face at dawn Where profound and terrible armies surge And foreign towns collapse under the weight of prophesied terrors All the dead advance, great armies, Martyrs for the Blood, the Sign, the Wound And time The animals all sorted Fishes too I have eaten judge me at God's right hand And the cats that arise from the dirt and the filth And the starving and the scabby The tortured the tortured the tortured I see them at night before I drift During my sleep they gambol and play And chase Balls or Children or Giants They play cards and click their eyes They laugh, and take tea at six They laugh as they tumble And have TEETH the size of cloudbursts And grip us and take us down to the Deep And we sigh and expire and Seeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee Silenceeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee Sssssssssmilliiiiiiiiiiiiinggggggggggggggg
I cannot bear this all any more. Not enough silence. But in the desert I sometimes see ships and hear the black diamond express near the station before mine. Caesar: where are you going? He said to me, grinning:
You will reach the Kingdom With a bow and a sweep You will reach the Kingdom I have caught and tortured Time And I ARISE
We are surrounded for the last 2000 years by a VAST EMPIRE OF DEATH and EMPIRE OF BLOOD: this was all after the Crucifixion: I uflow tou yeou: plhrhw xaritow kai elhyeiaw. So try to remove whatever may dream or spill or seed or spread on your breath: Or your silence will seep into the something you wished to avoid It will be seen some fine day, all right, yes, all right: \"I will make you mine,\", just you and I, whilst our breaths pass between us and spiral off to mausoleums of desires and hopes. When my friends pass into the great goodbye before my eyes And I too move with them: without sound, just words Left floating through the streets, and the ears: And the souls of the people who were with me: I was in them And they were in me. And off they go, a pint in their hands, A glint in their eye, and I see tambourines drearily clapping out The pavine carnival march: \"now you see'em, now you don't\" I did not want the world to stop; and I have seen it rush past me As a ferocious fury, but such angelic fury, and I was taking the Temperature of a thousand changes of mind: I might take you now, but perhaps I shall wait till the postman comes for toast and - With notes of the obsequies at 12 - With your teeth on edge at the faint sound of the swans charging at the trees that you built swings on and killed under and dreamt under With your beloved in that first and last virginal Summer When you entered this world of blood and belief And coupled under the Tropical Sun And gave birth to children in your cries
I am born to die. I am born to die. I am born to die.
\"Jesus snorted; he was moved to his guts;\" and the dust was everywhere, and Pilate arose in his fury. You have a boat waiting, friend, and it is time to board: all aboard, all aboard. \"We don't save the living here.\" (The cyclamen opens at evening, and the world was gentle tonight; summery, hints of rose and rouge in the sky in the north over the dome of the glassgreenhouse.) Pilate arose. And washed his hands. I washed my hands; I cleared dust of them; I can see specks of blood laughing upon them. Pilate washes his hands. He arose and washed his hands. And the sword fell.
Meanwhile, in the house with nothing at home: in the cafe with plates of liver and kidneys and offal; in the slaughterhouse near the schoolyard; in the damaged rooms of the schoold ma'am at rest; in the fallen arches of the brilliant silence, coloured at dawn, and twilit by the twittering of birds; in the moon shining down on the shrew on my step; at the freshly cut grass; at the sound of the bell making toast or tea or time buzz by with loud whoops of shouting \"I am here I am there; catch me if you can, catch me if you dare\". At all th4ese moments, and all these daydreams, and all our breaths which dream idly into deaths, deaths: at all these deaths, I remember you beautiful with love and fear with swooping hair biting the words our of your mind, and delivering them to me hating to pass the time, which swept by, as proud as a ghost, whilst we tossed coins to see who would disappear first.