Sunday, 5 October 2008

Keeping in Touch

There is also the utterance

of the fool’s music to be listened to

with as great attention as you

give your own


flat or mysterious dreams.

Invention on the edge of the void.

Stars on the line speak tersely of

‘creative accounting’


and it touches us for this evening

I too should like to be loved.

That fricative dark I

swallow, dropping


the net where it may.

Its curious bifocal effect, like

observing the casual panorama of language,

is literally an effect


in passing, its

every phenomenon is regional, reading

off foolish grids into truth

and the metaphors


we love as our own, revealed.

A humane, political loneliness,

the clouded mirror over the entrance,

your eyes looking up


and rounding on the asymptotic line,

which is also without end

as placid space mimics itself.

And I don’t have to


apologise or make myself scarce

because I am not the subject

of their concern,

but also a spectator.

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