sprook no moor

The immaculate black night is out of light

I had passed out sometime back

The chanting head voices had gone east somewhere

The limitless byzantine of my other world

I was anybody as I lay there in the dark

A breeze stirs from somewhere

Its breath disturbs the fragility of my connectedness

A breeze that whispers stuff about a country that aint out there anywhere

Little bells outside a childrens church

I hear a choir singing some faraway song as if through an astral line

On a Sunday morning not yet come they will unfurl penance

Drowsy little town at the foot of a mountain

Even as my world infects you and crumble

Silent chatter of cactus

The slow nodding of the fir

The gentle groan of the man on the ash

Echoes of squabbling gulls

The waves have ceased their crashing

The sea itself is quiet and listening

Listening to the music deep inside itself

Huge whales and sharks under the waves

Gentle lapping of dogs

The crack and creak of Hesperus in a dim mist

Laocoon calls out to his sons too late in the day

The universities are full of such monsters in these times

The finality is much more than many of us can stand

It doesn’t matter

Eventually all pain will subside it will reside outside nowhere

The truth will keep becoming strange and changing

Sleep escapes me although I pretend to dream

A pretender to a crown of wrought slumber

I take a number and wait