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 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 hanging like a 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 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 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 on and one: the one shut
the dead. The clouds pass by.
God over us and shrieks
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 dream of a paradise without wings or sorrow, Christ's tears fall over Jerusalem. The curtains are groggy 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 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 upon each other.

IV

I caught a glimpse of your
Last night in a dream
Awaking out of green field seas stars
Your eyes like the spectres of flowers
I turned out the light and clicked the door
The book
I had so many thoughts, so many
I made sense of at all
This green was unreal; the crickets sing
Across and plains the lost feast
Whose shimmering teeth are marking the passing of
A cloud falls; a bird shivers and sings, its stained with night
Pure gold: the 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 and boils
On an swamp; the silence is treacle thick
And calls us to prayer: paint God with your
And fill haunted women with knives and
And gauges and valves and make them long hymns
To gaseous and clumsy mortality whilst descend
Remember, remember the burning
Embedded in chest: 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 and call for the police
But there's a time for tea and a for expiring
And the to quit is in the post:
And you should 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 to inhabit
And new lies to
And how I
The moon, and its sheets of
The moon tiding in your
The smell of your breathing
And its taste in the sea in the shining my feet
Till it seemed as if they were of dew
pearls of huge beauty
Whilst your mouselike was
The hand my clock
And one each breath I nearer
To my and shining end

VI

All long long
Under the fly-dance and the twilight
The thought of you
And with children
me
Typecast and
Smudged ghost
There is a love so
So broken and
Torment, black
Slumbering between our
And the we thoughtlessly wove
I your essence once
At our time when the sunset and I you
In the slanting room, just of the past
Between belly and thighs:
This was a deceitful paradise.
as we created it
And destroyed in
So much 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
away: stay away: stay away:
What we we cannot have
And all the more
I slept on words and lines and
Of useless want, staring at the
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
Your houses are
Your children are of flame
The horses are dead and the butterflies
God is
The is in the air
And the depths
I at us all

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

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

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

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

The sun has just set
You
And behind it the moondfaced
Blue; pearl; white: mouth
of hopes, of dreams, of fur
Catching the moths
Trail dust in the
you to open alone and sign
Goodbye to us all in the room
In the eyewhite, skullwhite
In the bed,
Amongst the
Rita, ora pro nobis
I at you
And the earth
Hid under concrete and
Credo quia est
That the rise, 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 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 mass
You are You are there
and silently
You are the of the wave
And birds, all birds, in the distance
Their at dawn
profound and terrible armies surge
And foreign towns under the weight of prophesied terrors
All the dead advance, armies,
for the Blood, the Sign, the Wound
And
The all sorted Fishes too
I have eaten me at
God's hand
And the that arise from the dirt and the filth
And the starving and the
The tortured the the tortured
I see them at night I drift
During my they gambol and play
And chase or Children or Giants
They play and click their eyes
They laugh, and tea at six
laugh as they tumble
And TEETH the size of cloudbursts
And us and take us down to the Deep
And we sigh and and

I cannot bear this all any more. Not 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
a bow and a sweep
You will reach the
I have caught and Time
And I

We are surrounded for the last 2000 by a VAST EMPIRE OF DEATH and EMPIRE OF BLOOD: this was all after the Crucifixion:
i uflow tou yeou: plhrhw kai elhyeiaw.
So try to remove whatever may or spill or seed or spread on your breath:
Or your silence will seep into the something you to avoid
It will be some fine day, all right, yes, all right:
"I will 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
And I too move them: without sound, just words
Left floating the streets, and the ears:
And the souls of the people who with 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 tambourines drearily out
The pavine carnival "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 angelic fury, and I was taking the Temperature of a thousand changes of mind: I 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 virginal
When you entered this of blood and belief
And under the Tropical Sun
And gave birth to children in 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 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 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.