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 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 and the loss; we are born 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 sweetest thing. Al Bowlly, Jack Buchanan, sing on, dreaming of the lamps and the beautiful ladies, 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 click my
And there they are, mercurial ghosts,
And so the dead 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 hovers over us and
We hear the slightest crackle
Can't see the slightest
And we blur into our death and the second great
Whilst we chase chicks and dream of a paradise 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 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 backs on the Milky Way forever, as our eyes shower sweetness upon each other.

IV

I caught a glimpse of eyes
Last night in a restless
Awaking out of green field seas stars
Your eyes arose the spectres of flowers
I turned out the light and fast the door
The fell
I had so thoughts, so many signs
I made of nothing at all
green dream was unreal; the crickets sing
Across deserts and the lost feast
Whose shimmering are marking the passing of time
A cloud falls; a bird shivers and sings, its beak stained night
gold: the dark is waiting, the darkness is hungry,
The deep is angry, and the rings on
A film descends, and the silent movies play
Buster Keaton falls and rots, as Big Ben sings and
On an endless the silence is treacle thick
And us to prayer: paint God with your blood
And fill haunted with knives and kites
And gauges and valves and make weep long hymns
To gaseous and clumsy mortality fish descend
Remember, remember the burning
Embedded in your chest: the watches TV
And gorges itself on and popcorn
Now that's I call decay decline and hard times
times, very hard times, Mr. Lindsay,
Hard and winter so croool: you have stopped my watch
At the stroke of three and call for the
But there's a time for tea and a time for
And the to quit is in the post:
And you should know:
Little cow and 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 sheets of
The moon in your body
The of your blood breathing
And its in the sea in the south shining my feet
Till it seemed as if they made of dew
With of huge beauty
Whilst your breath was
The hand my clock
And one each I came nearer
To my silly and end

VI

All summer long
Under the and the thumbthick twilight
The of you smiling
And with children
me
Typecast and
Smudged gorgeous:
There is a so profound
So and risen:
Torment, black
Slumbering our lips
And the lies we wove
I your essence once
At our time when the and I touched you
In the slanting room, just of the past
Between belly and thighs:
was a temporary deceitful paradise.
Lost as we it
And destroyed in
So much blood is now
I dreamt for your bit lips, like 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 have
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 have to say
I saw you of conquests
Of large wars, bigger

I am pleased to
Your houses are
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 clouds of smoke
arise full of eyes of eyes
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

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

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

From the beauty
And from the depths
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; 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 the earth
Hid under and cruelty
Credo quia est
That the dead rise, rise,
And in the blink, in the
Of eye, Santa 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 tongue collapses towards the
And the waters of dream mass
You are You are there
Suddenly and
You are the force of the
And birds, all birds, reel in the
Their face at
Where profound and terrible surge
And foreign towns under the weight of prophesied terrors
All the dead advance, armies,
Martyrs for the Blood, the Sign, the
And
The animals all sorted too
I eaten judge me at
God's right
And the cats arise from the dirt and the filth
And the starving and the
The the tortured the tortured
I see them at night before I
During my sleep they gambol and
And chase 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 to the Deep
And we sigh and and

I bear 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 reach the Kingdom
With a bow and a
You will reach the
I have and tortured Time
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 tou yeou: plhrhw 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 you wished to avoid
It will be seen 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 goodbye before my eyes
And I too move with them: sound, just words
Left through 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 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 want the to stop; and I have seen it rush past me
As a ferocious fury, but such 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 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 dreamt
With your beloved in that first and virginal Summer
When you entered 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 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 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 which dream idly into deaths, deaths: at all these deaths, I 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.