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 young girl's voice. We are drowning in the approaching shadows. I am dreaming and cannot hold it. I seen.

(Dear the silence and the loss; we are born and fall. Dear Christ, you too are broken and lost and hanging 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 never 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 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 dead again: I 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 over us and
We hear the slightest crackle
Can't see the smiles
And we blur into our death and the second death
Whilst we chase chicks and 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 shut 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 holds still; we watch the fireflies kiss the night and turn their backs on the Milky Way forever, as our eyes shower sweetness upon each other.

IV

I caught a glimpse of your
night in a restless dream
Awaking out of green blue seas stars
Your eyes arose like the spectres of
I turned out the light and clicked fast the
The book
I had so many thoughts, so many
I made sense of at all
This dream was unreal; the crickets sing
Across and plains the lost feast
Whose shimmering teeth are marking the passing of
A cloud falls; a bird and sings, its beak stained with night
Pure gold: the dark is waiting, the is hungry,
The deep is angry, and the telephone on
A film screen descends, and the movies play
Buster Keaton falls and rots, as Big Ben and boils
On an endless swamp; the 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 mortality whilst descend
Remember, remember the burning
Embedded in your chest: the soul TV
And itself on blood and popcorn
Now that's what I decay decline and hard times
times, very hard times, Mr. Lindsay,
Hard times and winter so croool: you have my watch
At the stroke of three and call for the
But there's a time for tea and a for expiring
And the to quit is in the post:
And you know: your
cow and calf is gonna die

V

I was awake,
Of new to run to and hide within
And new to wear
And new bodies to
And new lies to
And how I
The moon, and its sheets of
The moon in your body
The smell of blood breathing
And its taste in the sea in the south shining my
Till it as if they were made of dew
With of huge beauty
Whilst mouselike breath was
The upon my clock
And one each breath I came
To my and shining end

VI

All long summer
Under the and the thumbthick twilight
The thought of you
And with children
me
Typecast and
Smudged ghost
There is a love so
So broken and
Torment, valley
between our lips
And the lies we wove
I knew your once
At our time the sunset and I touched you
In the slanting room, just of the past
Between your and thighs:
was a temporary deceitful paradise.
Lost as we it
And in tasting
So blood is lacking now
I dreamt for your bit lips, haunted waves
In the arch of evening:
You and the night, you and the
You and tomorrow, you and the
away: stay away: stay away:
What we want we cannot
And wanting all the
I slept on words and lines and
Of want, staring at the time
And finally lost you finally finally lost you
As the moon down and wept.

VII

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

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

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

morning
I have seen the that lies
I have seen the lips that
With false 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 eyes eyes
And he is on a horse a a horse
With a train of behind its hooves
And I must say from my
I have seen a emerge from a cloud of wings
Arise arise from eyes from
And a number is is sss6een is sss6een

From the beauty
And from the depths
From the depths the depths
I have and added and have seen you all
Your children are dead and for you

The sun has already set
You
And behind it the moondfaced
Blue; white: opaline mouth
of hopes, of dreams, of fur
Catching the moths
Trail in the dusk
Caused you to open alone and
Goodbye to us all in the white
In the eyewhite, skullwhite
In the bed,
the dead:
Santa Rita, ora pro
I at you
And touched the
Hid under concrete and
quia impossibile est
That the dead rise, rise,
And in the blink, in the
Of your eye, Rita,
I saw you dart, as an eclipse
Whilst the twilight a rainbow
All around your
And I saw and was

IX

In
You are
As the tip of the tongue collapses the teeth
And the of dream mass around
You are You are there
Suddenly and
You are the of the wave
And birds, all birds, in the distance
face at dawn
Where profound and armies surge
And towns collapse under the weight of prophesied terrors
All the dead advance, armies,
Martyrs for the Blood, the Sign, the
And
The animals all sorted too
I have eaten me at
right hand
And the cats that arise from the and the filth
And the starving and the
The tortured the tortured the
I see them at night I drift
During my sleep gambol and play
And chase Balls or Children or
They play cards and click their
laugh, and take tea at six
They laugh as they
And have TEETH the size of
And grip us and take us to the Deep
And we and expire and

I cannot bear this all any more. Not enough silence. But in the desert I sometimes see and hear the black diamond express near the station before mine. Caesar: where are you going? He said to me, grinning:

You will the Kingdom
a bow and a sweep
You reach the Kingdom
I have and tortured Time
And I

We are surrounded for the last 2000 years by a VAST EMPIRE OF DEATH and OF BLOOD: this was all after the Crucifixion:
i uflow tou yeou: xaritow kai elhyeiaw.
So try to remove may dream or spill or seed or spread on your breath:
Or your will seep into the something you wished to avoid
It will be seen fine day, all right, yes, all right:
"I will make you mine,", just you and I, whilst our breaths pass between us and off to mausoleums of desires and hopes.
When my friends pass into the great goodbye my eyes
And I too with them: without sound, just words
Left floating through the streets, and the
And the souls of the people who were me: I was in them
And they were in me. And off they go, a in their hands,
A glint in their eye, and I see drearily clapping out
The carnival march: "now you see'em, now you don't"
I did not want the to stop; and I have seen it rush past me
As a ferocious fury, but such 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 charging at the trees that you built swings on and killed under and dreamt under
With your beloved in that first and last Summer
you entered this world of blood and belief
And under the Tropical Sun
And gave birth to 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 delivering them to me hating to pass the time, which swept by, as proud as a ghost, whilst we coins to see who would disappear first.