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
Landscape
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
Irrelevant
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