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 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 father 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 the dead again: I click my eyes
And there are, mercurial 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 over us and
We don't the slightest crackle
see the slightest smiles
And we into 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 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 restless
Awaking out of green field blue stars
Your eyes arose like the 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 dream was unreal; the crickets
Across and plains the lost feast
Whose shimmering teeth are marking the passing of
A cloud falls; a shivers and sings, its beak stained with night
Pure gold: the is waiting, the darkness is hungry,
The deep is angry, and the rings on
A screen descends, and the silent movies play
Keaton falls and rots, as Big Ben sings and boils
On an endless swamp; the is treacle thick
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 fish descend
Remember, the burning ember
Embedded in your the soul watches TV
And gorges itself on blood and
Now that's what I call decay decline and hard
Hard times, hard times, Mr. Lindsay,
Hard times and winter so you have stopped my watch
At the stroke of and call 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 know:
Little cow and calf is die

V

I was awake,
Of new dystopias to run to and within
And new faces to
And new bodies to
And new to guzzle
And how I
The moon, and its of seeds
The moon tiding in 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 pearls of huge
Whilst your mouselike was
The hand my clock
And one each breath I nearer
To my silly and end

VI

All long long
Under the fly-dance and the thumbthick
The thought of you
And laughing with
me
Typecast and
ghost gorgeous:
There is a so profound
So broken and
Torment, black
Slumbering our lips
And the lies we thoughtlessly
I your essence once
At our time the sunset and I touched you
In the slanting room, south of the past
Between your belly and
was a temporary deceitful paradise.
Lost as we it
And destroyed in
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 stay away: stay away:
What we want we cannot
And all the more
I slept on words and lines and
Of useless want, at the time
And finally you finally finally lost you finally
As the swept down and wept.

VII

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

I am to say:
Your are dead
Your children are of flame
The are dead and the butterflies fall
God is
The is in the air
And the depths
I at us all

morning
The clouds of arise
Arise arise full of eyes of
Your sons are suffocating their
And painting eyes on the
With tongues in blood
Arise arise full of eyes of
And from the
I to us all

Good
I have seen the face lies
I seen the lips that smile
false smiles arise arise
Look I have read a book a book
has spelt out the future

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

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

The sun has just set
You
And it the moondfaced disc
pearl; white: opaline mouth
of hopes, of dreams, of fur
Catching the moths
dust in the dusk
Caused you to open 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 touched the
Hid concrete and cruelty
Credo impossibile est
That the dead rise, rise,
And in the blink, in the
Of your eye, Rita,
I saw you dart, dark as an
the twilight made 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 mass around
You are there: You are
and silently
You are the force of the
And birds, all birds, in the distance
Their at dawn
Where profound and armies surge
And foreign towns collapse under the of prophesied terrors
All the advance, great armies,
for the Blood, the Sign, the Wound
And
The all sorted Fishes too
I have eaten me at
God's right
And the cats that arise from the dirt and the
And the and the scabby
The tortured the tortured the
I see them at before I drift
my sleep they gambol and play
And chase Balls or Children or
play cards and click their eyes
They laugh, and tea at six
They laugh as tumble
And TEETH the size of cloudbursts
And us and take us down to the Deep
And we and expire and

I cannot this 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 reach the
a bow and a sweep
You will reach the
I have and tortured Time
And I

We are for the last 2000 years by a VAST EMPIRE OF DEATH and EMPIRE OF BLOOD: this was all after the Crucifixion:
i tou yeou: plhrhw xaritow kai elhyeiaw.
So try to remove whatever may dream or or seed or spread on your breath:
Or your will seep into the something you wished to avoid
It will be some fine day, all right, yes, all right:
"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 great goodbye my eyes
And I too move with without sound, just words
Left through the streets, and the ears:
And the souls of the people who were me: I was in them
And they were in me. And off go, a pint 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 world to stop; and I have seen it rush 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 charging at the trees that you built swings on and killed under and dreamt under
With your beloved in that first and last Summer
When you 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 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 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 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.