o broken column
you was
thou wast
in the cemetery with me.
The dead began to sing
without reason.
I wander the splashed slate black streets
no more
no more
no more
It is interesting to compare poetry and contemporary physics, and to note how
inventor
creator
discoverer
mystic
physic
relate new found trails through blank darkness:
language, mind, matter matter, language,mind
mind,language,matter
language,matter,mind matter,mind,language
mind,matter,language
o
whit
a
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ride
fae
oot
o
here !
When the sky is low over History
revelations occur.
Heightened glances
of a supermundane sensibility.
A late autumn sky comes to mind
over Loch Creran:
cyanic blue cuts
through geese skeined cloud.
A wintry squall
cautions from the north,
from the land of Appin
whence the assassin came.
Cattle snort in the dark field
above the raised beach.
Returning,
a young nordic face is singing at me
from the video screen.
I divert my gaze from ideas of sex and beauty
to a phenomenon that can only be described by photography:
translucent box
under
electric chandelier
— then if another
recession does happen
the spectres of the last
century will rise up
to the east of us
shouting and condemning
commanding and destroying
producing an historical
moment so full of terror
that the past will seem
like —
chickenfeed,
sd the diabolical.
Kampf. Kampf. Kampf.
(the revenge of existence on its self)
The speculative imagination has materialised:
falling towers and crashing planes and endless deserts.
Unreal city
Unreal city.