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The town is crouching |
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A field of windmills waits, their stupid heads turning |
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Stirring the night's bath |
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Bundles of vapour hang over the factories |
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Whose lights blink and loll like sleepy eyelids |
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The moth in the lighthouse breathes with its prehistoric parts |
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I feel the night snicker. |
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It was here, |
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Tangled among the litter and old |
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Valentines |
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I found my coma leaking |
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A branch punched a hole |
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In the quiet that was keeping meand |
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SuddenlyAll the sleep fell out |
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Rolling over the hills in a dark warm wave |
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Voices of the orphan choirs threaten to overwhelm |
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Speeding through the skeletons of trees |
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Pulling their bodies bent |
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The wind's terrible symphony tore out my longing by the toes |
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My ears were emptied and renamed |
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The balm slid off like a bubble of oil and |
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Died pitifully under the choirmaster's heel |
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I was gutted and clinging on like a dish rag --- |
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But so on fire with believing |
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That when the storm introduced itself |
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I put my finger in its mouth |
