Take leave of the library. At the far end. Away from the desk. Out into a room which is not a room. A kind of corridor. The new entrance. A thoroughfare you follow almost to its opposite corner. Stop. After nine paces //

Open to eyes with open eyes

The unseen inhabits the scene. Perhaps

A camel, some goats. Sand

And humans

Seen for the first time

Obscene castings on the desert

'Our' shepherds graze a grander language


Where Blake's spectres and emanations were

Unfashioned out of consciousness

A rouged dawn the fire of salvation

But isn't

Away to the ice-capped Alps

Lost in the scale of their own dissembling

Dwarfs the people

But doesn't

Renders them undiminished but not quite vulnerable


In the oil sketch

They are not even bothered with

We use them as measure

Measured chimes of human anthems

In the midst of inhuman symphonies

Echoes the mountains overbearing

Evelyn Baring

Classifies grains of sand unclarified

Weirs crash down upon Venetian thoughts

In a limited compass

She's suddenly seen you

From the new entrance

Entranced mutual fascination

You are invited to her fear

If you allow this trick works both ways

Which you wouldn't

Dragging yourself onto the stage of old mythologies

To enact guilty opposition

Uttering unspeakable speeches

Coyly opening your hatch to admit more pleasure

The wild delirium soaks the tedium in a moment

You never had