The six o’clock dawn Opening the sky The breath of light Turns dreams into roots Rising from the sea of sleep My soul is filled with leaves My face comes to life On the border of light In the bright space A song begins seeing The bow of summer Ploughs through rippling waves I reach for a lifeline But I sink back in its depth
You think that • Losing your memory is like losing your life • Losing your life is memories lost
The earth cannot bear so many memories And death doesn’t store them up
What is more important to you That you keep your memories Or that you still can love?
I would give all of my memories for love I would let love take all my memories
Memories are used – not often, not always Memories are not always good
Some memories are like life itself They recall the days of sunshine They form like pearls, or like cancers
Life is a necklace of random pearls Many go missing, falling to the floor Searching you may be reminded of one
Memory closes like a flytrap over the worst and the best
Memories are lost but we can still keep out minds We are still ourselves; But minds that are lost make us like inputs attached to the earth existing only for food and sleep
But I would hope That out of sleep comes healing slowly sleep gets busy with repairs And we can wake up refreshed Knowing who we are Knowing our loved ones whom we lost that moved about like ghosts in our vision; ghosts we could not put names to
What power makes our focus fade? An inner blindness of the heart Does the soul walk away from the body Unable to take any more of its life
A cheese and chocolate cake on a plate
A date with a rainy day fate
I wait under the clock moon face
A cheese and chocolate cake lake
I awake, the silver moon in my mouth like the undertaker’s horse bit
The flood of my wits on the bedroom floor
I lurch out the door I want some more
To study the law of love wearing
Those rubber gloves I see every day on the street
From the jellyfish hospitals and nurses
How their poetry verses eradicate curses
One day further away from the station where the nation
Waits for the light hovering under the yellow whiskey glow on the sky, I try to
Plan my way but my hand is pulled away by the plutonium rods of a weird wind that makes me see visions of people mentally dying.
And in the station where the nation waits for explanation to the state of the cheese and chocolate cake
Left on the track how they quickly transform
As the moon turns to helium
Then into a pack of dogs at my back in plastic Macs chasing my shadow.
Shouting “hey, that’s the four-eyed git who couldn’t hit a football if he tried”
I’m nowhere, so I wait inside a cheese and chocolate cake looking at heaven in a mirror above my head where all love seems to masturbate out of hate.
More people fill the empty station, transform into a pack of dogs
Start barking as they run down the railway line of time
When cruelty was free and happened all the time
When the face of truth didn’t shine through
And the face of beauty was blind too
That’s this generation who are refilling the railway station now and transform into cows waiting for the cattle train from some buzzing computer brain to come and teach them how to escape from crimes they imitate after witnessing the murders in the house of love and shaking the hand in the rubber glove of their bedroom, masochistic dreams of schemes to build an Englishman’s castle
You chased the scaredy-cat around, quite a funny sight
But it was hard to see you in the thickness of the night
The animal was a dream thing; it appeared out of the blue
And vanished like a frozen wish leaving not a clue.
You searched beneath the bamboo, you ran around the shrubs
Your smiling face was glowing near the flower tubs.
Another great performance lost to history
Performed without a spotlight but acted out for free.