o broken column
in the cemetery with me.
The dead began to sing
I wander the splashed slate black streets
It is interesting to compare poetry and contemporary physics, and to note how
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
When the sky is low over History
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.
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:
— 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 —
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.