Luyện nghe bài hát Hypnagogue

I

Behind my walls are my Cats. And behind my Cats is a Peacock singing to me of my death and yours. I said to her "In the silence of an eye, I shall smile and arise, and see someone I used to know sleeping; in her room in her bed in her body I was in Paradise." I am awake in the sound of roses and a girl's voice. We are drowning in the approaching shadows. I am dreaming and cannot hold it. I have seen.

(Dear Christ: the silence and the loss; we are born and fall. Dear Christ, you too are broken and lost and like a Roman standard over us all.)

II

Behind the line of my skull that hides behind my hair and skin, I see the selfsame skull of my father, and beyond the skull of my father, the skull of my grandfather, and the skull of my great grandfather, whom I knew. And so on this line unto the alpha and omega point at infinity. With my eye - this fire, this fly, that sees everything and smiles, and comprehends nothing, and dies - I see all around my head and that end. I have invented myself; I have created myself; I am just a form of dream English, words stretched with skin and fear. From my eyes in my skull my father observes this immense and kaleidoscopic dream. By birth I am other than this. The mosquitoes rejoice in my skin. The lizard is on the ceiling above me. The shallow water pots deny the ants routes to food. There is no silence ever. The cicadas are omnipotent sound. The kampong is dark and still. I am not what I thought I was. I am not what I seem. Most of all, I am not what I am. I thought it was the news rushing down the wires, happy in death and fashion, spinning yo-yos and clacking its jaw, raising its eyes, mimicking dogs at play. The sun shuts down, and erases birdlight. And in this stunted eclipse I saw myself, some darkness at last tenously visible, love as the sweetest thing. Al Bowlly, Jack Buchanan, sing on, dreaming of the lamps and the beautiful ladies, bowed lips packed with blood, the staged kisses trembling under the placid stars, the coffee taken with cream and scones under the Viennese Moon; whilst we are weighed, we are judged, and twist in this storm like birds over sails.

III

I have caught the again: I click my eyes
And there they are, ghosts, formed
And so the dead do move, and shout,
And pray, and cry, and
And the eye click on and the one shut
the dead. The clouds pass by.
God hovers us and shrieks
We don't hear the crackle
see the slightest smiles
And we blur our death and the second great death
Whilst we chase chicks and dream of a paradise without wings or sorrow, Christ's tears fall over Jerusalem. The curtains are groggy with damp, and the rails, and the tracks and the tacks, and the black and the bats, and the shrivelled shrill lights trip and laugh over the weeds and the blossoms, and throats open and sigh. I am the moon and the sun, the rising and the setting, the first and final breaths, and the product of the stars. I am some immortal and pointless dust.
Two bodies lie in bed for their brief moment together in eternity; the memory holds still; we watch the fireflies kiss the night and turn backs on the Milky Way forever, as our eyes shower sweetness upon each other.

IV

I caught a glimpse of your
Last night in a restless
out of green field blue seas stars
Your arose like the spectres of flowers
I out the light and clicked fast the door
The book
I had so thoughts, so many signs
I sense of nothing at all
This dream was unreal; the crickets sing
Across deserts and plains the lost
Whose shimmering teeth are the passing of time
A cloud falls; a bird shivers and sings, its beak with night
Pure gold: the dark is waiting, the is hungry,
The deep is angry, and the rings on
A film screen descends, and the silent play
Keaton falls and rots, as Big Ben sings and boils
On an endless the silence is treacle thick
And us to prayer: paint God with your blood
And fill haunted women with and kites
And gauges and valves and make them long hymns
To gaseous and clumsy whilst fish descend
Remember, the burning ember
Embedded in your chest: the soul TV
And gorges itself on blood and
Now that's what I call decline and hard times
Hard times, very times, Mr. Lindsay,
Hard times and winter so you have stopped my watch
At the of three and call for the police
But a time for tea and a time for expiring
And the to quit is in the post:
And you know: your
Little cow and calf is die

V

I was awake,
Of new dystopias to run to and hide
And new to wear
And new bodies to
And new lies to
And how I
The moon, and its sheets of
The moon tiding in body
The of your blood breathing
And its in the sea in the south shining my feet
Till it seemed as if were made of dew
With pearls of beauty
Whilst mouselike breath was
The hand upon my
And one each breath I came
To my silly and end

VI

All long long
Under the and the thumbthick twilight
The thought of you
And laughing with
me
Typecast and
Smudged ghost
is a love so profound
So broken and
Torment, black
Slumbering between our
And the lies we thoughtlessly
I your essence once
At our time the sunset and I touched you
In the slanting room, just of the past
Between belly and thighs:
This was a temporary paradise.
Lost as we it
And in tasting
So blood is lacking now
I dreamt for your bit lips, like waves
In the ecstatic of evening:
You and the night, you and the
You and tomorrow, you and the
Stay away: stay stay away:
What we want we have
And wanting all the
I on words and lines and texts
Of want, staring at the time
And finally lost you finally finally you finally
As the moon swept and wept.

VII

Good morning: How are
I called to say
I saw you of conquests
Of large wars, bigger

I am to say:
houses are dead
Your children are of flame
The horses are dead and the fall
God is
The is in the air
And the depths
I at us all

Good
The clouds of arise
Arise arise full of eyes of
Your sons are suffocating their
And eyes on the walls
With dipped in blood
Arise full of eyes of eyes
And from the
I to us all

morning
I have the face that lies
I seen the lips that smile
With smiles arise arise
look: I have read a book a book
That has spelt out the

And the depths
I see a king arise
With on his forehead many eyes
And he is on a horse a a horse
With a of smoke behind its hooves
And I say from my depths
I have seen a story emerge a cloud of wings
Arise arise from from eyes
And a number is is sss6een is sss6een

the depths beauty
And from the depths
the depths from the depths
I have called and added and have you all
Your are dead and waiting for you

The sun has already set
You
And behind it the disc
Blue; white: opaline mouth
of hopes, of dreams, of fur
Catching the moths
Trail dust in the
Caused you to open and sign
Goodbye to us all in the room
In the eyewhite, room
In the bed,
the dead:
Santa Rita, ora pro
I at you
And the earth
Hid concrete and cruelty
Credo impossibile est
the dead rise, rise, rise
And in the blink, in the
Of eye, Santa Rita,
I saw you dart, dark as an
Whilst the made a rainbow
All around your
And I saw and was

IX

In
You are
As the tip of the tongue collapses towards the
And the of dream mass around
You are You are there
and silently
You are the of the wave
And birds, all birds, in the distance
face at dawn
Where profound and terrible surge
And foreign towns collapse under the weight of terrors
All the advance, great armies,
for the Blood, the Sign, the Wound
And
The animals all Fishes too
I have judge me at
God's hand
And the that arise from the dirt and the filth
And the and the scabby
The the tortured the tortured
I see them at before I drift
During my sleep they and play
And chase or Children or Giants
They cards and click their eyes
They laugh, and tea at six
They laugh as they
And have TEETH the of cloudbursts
And grip us and take us to the Deep
And we sigh and and

I cannot 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 reach the Kingdom
With a bow and a
You reach the Kingdom
I have caught and tortured
And I

We are surrounded for the last 2000 years by a VAST EMPIRE OF DEATH and EMPIRE OF this was all after the Crucifixion:
i uflow tou yeou: xaritow kai elhyeiaw.
So try to remove whatever may dream or spill or seed or spread on your
Or your silence will seep the something you wished to avoid
It will be seen some fine day, all right, yes, all
"I will make you mine,", 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 before my eyes
And I too move with them: without sound, just
Left floating the streets, and the ears:
And the of the people who were with me: I was in them
And were in me. And off they go, a pint in their hands,
A glint in their eye, and I see tambourines drearily out
The pavine march: "now you see'em, now you don't"
I did not want the world to stop; and I have seen it 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 wait till the postman comes for toast and - With notes of the obsequies at 12 -
With your teeth on 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 Summer
When you entered this world of and belief
And under the Tropical Sun
And gave to children in your cries

I am to die.
I am to die.
I am 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 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 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.