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 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 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 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 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 the dead again: I click my eyes
And there they are, ghosts, formed
And moving; so the do move, and shout,
And pray, and cry, and
And the eye on and one: the one shut
Catches the dead. The pass by.
God over us and shrieks
We don't the slightest crackle
Can't see the smiles
And we blur into our death and the second 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 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 memory holds still; we watch the fireflies the night and turn their backs on the Milky Way forever, as our eyes shower sweetness upon each other.

IV

I a glimpse of your eyes
Last night in a dream
Awaking out of field blue seas stars
Your eyes arose the spectres of flowers
I turned out the and clicked fast the door
The book
I had so thoughts, so many signs
I made of nothing at all
This green was unreal; the crickets sing
Across deserts and plains the feast
shimmering teeth are marking the passing of time
A cloud falls; a bird shivers and sings, its beak with night
Pure gold: the is waiting, the darkness is hungry,
The deep is angry, and the telephone on
A film screen descends, and the silent play
Buster Keaton falls and rots, as Big Ben sings and
On an swamp; the silence is treacle thick
And calls us to paint God with your blood
And fill haunted women with and kites
And gauges and valves and make them weep hymns
To gaseous and clumsy whilst fish descend
Remember, the burning ember
in your chest: the soul watches TV
And gorges itself on and popcorn
Now that's what I decay decline and hard times
Hard times, hard times, Mr. Lindsay,
Hard times and winter so croool: you have my watch
At the stroke of three and call for the
But a time for tea and a time for expiring
And the to quit is in the post:
And you should know:
cow and calf is gonna die

V

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

VI

All long long
Under the and the thumbthick twilight
The of you smiling
And laughing with
me
Typecast and
Smudged ghost
is a love so profound
So and risen:
Torment, black
Slumbering between our
And the we thoughtlessly wove
I knew your essence
At our time when the and I touched you
In the slanting room, just of the past
your belly and thighs:
This was a temporary paradise.
Lost as we it
And destroyed in
So much 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
Stay away: stay away: away:
What we want we cannot
And wanting all the
I on words and lines and texts
Of want, staring at the time
And finally lost you finally lost you finally
As the swept down and wept.

VII

Good How are you?
I called to say
I saw you dreaming of
Of wars, bigger walls:

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

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

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

And from the
I see a arise arise
With on his forehead eyes eyes
And he is on a a horse a horse
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 eyes from eyes
And a number is is sss6een is sss6een

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

The sun has just set
You
And behind it the disc
Blue; white: opaline mouth
of hopes, of dreams, of fur
Catching the moths
Trail in the dusk
you to open alone and sign
Goodbye to us all in the room
In the eyewhite, room
In the bed,
Amongst the
Rita, ora pro nobis
I at you
And touched the
Hid concrete and cruelty
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
the twilight made a rainbow
All around passing
And I saw and was

IX

In
You are
As the tip of the collapses towards the teeth
And the waters of dream mass
You are You are there
and silently
You are the force of the
And birds, all birds, in the distance
Their face at
Where and terrible armies surge
And foreign towns under the weight of prophesied terrors
All the advance, great armies,
Martyrs for the Blood, the Sign, the
And
The animals all Fishes too
I have eaten me at
God's hand
And the cats that arise the dirt and the filth
And the starving and the
The tortured the tortured the
I see them at night I drift
During my sleep they gambol and
And chase Balls or or Giants
They play cards and click eyes
They laugh, and tea at six
They laugh as they
And TEETH the size of cloudbursts
And grip us and us down to the Deep
And we sigh and and

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

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

We are surrounded for the last years by a VAST EMPIRE OF DEATH 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 on your breath:
Or your silence will seep into the something you wished to
It will be seen fine day, all right, yes, all right:
"I will make you mine,", just you and I, our breaths pass between us and spiral off to mausoleums of desires and hopes.
When my friends pass the great goodbye before my eyes
And I too move with them: without sound, words
Left floating the streets, and the ears:
And the souls of the people who were with me: I was in
And they were in me. And off they go, a pint in 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 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 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
your beloved in that first and last virginal Summer
When you this world of blood and belief
And under the Tropical 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 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 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.