Luyện nghe bài hát Hypnagogue

I

Behind my walls are my Cats. And behind my Cats is a 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 have seen.

(Dear Christ: the silence and the loss; we are born and fall. 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 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 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 click my
And there are, mercurial ghosts, formed
And moving; so the do move, and shout,
And pray, and cry, and
And the eye click on and one: the one
Catches the dead. The clouds by.
God over us and shrieks
We hear the slightest 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 their backs on the Milky Way forever, as our eyes shower sweetness each other.

IV

I caught a glimpse of eyes
night in a restless dream
Awaking out of green blue seas stars
Your eyes arose like the of flowers
I turned out the light and clicked the door
The fell
I had so many thoughts, so many
I sense of nothing at all
This green dream was the crickets sing
Across deserts and plains the lost
shimmering teeth are marking the passing of time
A cloud falls; a bird shivers and sings, its beak with night
gold: the dark is waiting, the darkness is hungry,
The is angry, and the telephone rings on
A film screen descends, and the silent movies
Buster Keaton falls and rots, as Big Ben sings and
On an swamp; the silence is treacle thick
And calls us to prayer: God with your blood
And fill haunted women with knives and
And gauges and valves and them weep long hymns
To gaseous and clumsy whilst fish descend
Remember, the burning ember
Embedded in your the soul watches TV
And itself on blood and popcorn
Now what I call decay decline and hard times
Hard times, hard times, Mr. Lindsay,
Hard times and winter so croool: you have stopped my
At the stroke of three and for the police
But there's a for tea and a time 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 dystopias to run to and hide
And new faces to
And new bodies to
And new lies to
And how I
The moon, and its of seeds
The moon tiding in body
The of your blood breathing
And its in the sea in the south shining my feet
Till it as if they were made of dew
With pearls of huge
your mouselike breath was
The hand my clock
And one each breath I came
To my silly and end

VI

All summer long
the fly-dance and the thumbthick twilight
The thought of you
And laughing with
me
Typecast and
Smudged ghost
There is a so profound
So and risen:
Torment, valley
Slumbering between our
And the lies we wove
I knew your essence
At our when the sunset and I touched you
In the room, just south 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 like
In the ecstatic arch of
You and the night, you and the
You and tomorrow, you and the
Stay away: stay away: away:
What we we cannot have
And wanting all the
I slept on words and lines and
Of useless want, at the time
And finally lost you finally lost you finally
As the moon down and wept.

VII

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

I am pleased to
houses are dead
Your children are of flame
The are dead and the butterflies fall
God is
The is in the air
And from the
I at us all

Good
The clouds of smoke
Arise arise full of of eyes
sons are suffocating their sisters
And painting eyes on the
tongues dipped in blood
Arise arise full of of eyes
And the depths
I to us all

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

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

From the depths
And from the depths
the depths from the depths
I called and added and have seen you all
children 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
dust in the dusk
Caused you to alone and sign
to us all in the white room
In the eyewhite, skullwhite
In the bed,
Amongst the
Rita, ora pro nobis
I at you
And touched the
Hid under and cruelty
Credo quia est
That the rise, rise, rise
And in the blink, in the
Of eye, Santa Rita,
I saw you dart, dark as an
Whilst the twilight made a
All your passing
And I saw and was

IX

In
You are
As the tip of the tongue towards the teeth
And the waters of dream around
You are there: You are
Suddenly and
You are the force of the
And birds, all birds, in the distance
Their face at
Where profound and armies surge
And foreign towns collapse under the weight of prophesied
All the dead advance, armies,
Martyrs for the Blood, the Sign, the
And
The animals all Fishes too
I eaten judge me at
God's hand
And the that arise from the dirt and the filth
And the starving and the
The tortured the tortured the
I see at night before I drift
During my sleep gambol and play
And chase or Children or Giants
They play and click their eyes
laugh, and take tea at six
They laugh as tumble
And TEETH the size of cloudbursts
And grip us and us down to the Deep
And we sigh and and

I cannot bear 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 the Kingdom
a bow and a sweep
You will the Kingdom
I caught and tortured Time
And I

We are surrounded for the last 2000 years by a VAST EMPIRE OF and EMPIRE OF BLOOD: 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 breath:
Or your silence seep into the something you wished to avoid
It will be seen some day, all right, yes, all right:
"I will make you mine,", just you and I, whilst our breaths between us and spiral off to mausoleums of desires and hopes.
When my friends into the great goodbye before my eyes
And I too move with them: without sound, just
Left floating through the streets, and the
And the souls of the people who with me: I was in them
And were in me. And off they go, a pint in their hands,
A in their eye, and I see tambourines drearily clapping 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 edge at the faint sound of the swans charging at the trees that you built swings on and killed under and under
With your beloved in that and last virginal Summer
When you entered this of blood and belief
And coupled under the Sun
And birth 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 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 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 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.