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 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. Dear Christ, you too are broken and 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 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 dead 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
Catches the dead. The clouds by.
God hovers us and shrieks
We hear the slightest crackle
see the slightest 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 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 immortal and pointless dust.
Two bodies lie in bed for their brief moment together in eternity; the memory holds still; we watch the kiss 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 in a restless dream
out of green field blue seas stars
Your eyes arose the spectres of flowers
I turned out the light and clicked fast the
The fell
I had so many thoughts, so many
I sense of nothing at all
This green 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 stained night
Pure the dark is waiting, the darkness is hungry,
The deep is angry, and the rings on
A film screen descends, and the silent play
Buster Keaton falls and rots, as Big Ben and boils
On an endless swamp; the silence is treacle
And calls us to prayer: paint God your blood
And fill women with knives and kites
And gauges and valves and them weep long hymns
To gaseous and clumsy mortality whilst descend
Remember, remember the burning
in your chest: the soul watches TV
And itself on blood and popcorn
Now that's what I call decay decline and hard
times, very 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 notice to is in the post:
And you should your
cow and calf is gonna die

V

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

VI

All summer long
the fly-dance and the thumbthick twilight
The thought of you
And with children
me
Typecast and
Smudged ghost
is a love so profound
So and risen:
Torment, black
Slumbering 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 belly and
was a temporary deceitful paradise.
Lost as we it
And in tasting
So much is lacking now
I for your bit lips, haunted like waves
In the ecstatic of evening:
You and the night, you and the
You and tomorrow, you and the
Stay away: stay away: stay
What we want we cannot
And all the more
I slept on words and lines and
Of want, staring at the time
And finally lost you finally finally lost you
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
Your are dead
Your are full of flame
The are dead and the butterflies 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
tongues dipped in blood
Arise full of eyes of eyes
And the depths
I to us all

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

And the depths
I see a king arise
With on his forehead many eyes
And he is on a a horse a horse
With a of smoke 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 sss6een is is sss6een

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

The sun has just set
You
And behind it the moondfaced
Blue; pearl; opaline mouth
of hopes, of dreams, of fur
Catching the that
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
Santa Rita, ora pro
I at you
And the earth
Hid under and cruelty
quia impossibile est
That the dead rise, rise,
And in the blink, in the
Of eye, Santa Rita,
I saw you dart, dark as an
Whilst the twilight a rainbow
All your passing
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 there: You are
Suddenly and
You are the force of the
And birds, all birds, in the distance
Their at dawn
Where profound and terrible surge
And towns collapse under the weight of prophesied terrors
All the advance, great armies,
for the Blood, the Sign, the Wound
And
The animals all sorted too
I have eaten me at
right hand
And the cats that arise the dirt and the filth
And the and the scabby
The tortured the the tortured
I see them at night before I
During my sleep they gambol and
And Balls or Children or Giants
play cards and click their eyes
They laugh, and tea at six
They laugh as they
And have the size of cloudbursts
And grip us and take us down to the
And we and expire 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 reach the Kingdom
With a bow and a
You will 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 BLOOD: this was all after the
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 will seep into the something you wished to
It will be seen some fine day, all right, yes, all
"I will make you mine,", just you and I, whilst our pass between us and spiral off to mausoleums of desires and hopes.
When my friends pass into the goodbye before 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 with me: I was in them
And they were in me. And off they go, a pint in hands,
A glint in their eye, and I see drearily clapping out
The pavine march: "now you see'em, now you don't"
I did not the world 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 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 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 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 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 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.