Ah! The pain
the wanting all over dilemma
sober reach out
sweet grape of confusion;
a duchess spread out on her savage’s bed
willing her blood
red to the lips of her lackeying male,
neither caring the speech or the stain of his whip.
Taking the seventh
of her seconding breaths at the weep of secretion.
Comes now the concentration;
the apex of arc,
the long-drawn laugh of the physical man.
then the plummet of an up thrown stone;
Then the cold
Darkness of Earth
and then the winter of a why gloom face
frosting the smile of devil cares not
into peaceful beginning;
a child in the low of the arc,
weak murmur of problem.
And yet in end it begins;
in the no start never finish real of the spark,
in the still heard gasp
mute echo of Psi fleeing the white.
In the good die young
the crude soldier damning
as with the devils and the un-vowed nun;
the same design.
All blind fisherman in the day-night
from the corporeal banks of unsettled sublimity.
as harpoon with a white heat line;
the strongest plus and minus seed.
All charge of the instrument cannon,
to the state of perpetual climax; there
as the spear of the deepest descent.
The finder receiving
the arranged and irrevocable choice
the twin of sex;
2 thoughts on “A Day in the Night of the Walking Sleeper”
Thanks Tony- so nice to receive another blog post from you, hope yourself and Pam are both keeping well! Regards, Sophie
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Hi Sophie, am doing OK now, had a stroke in March but am fully recovered -great to hear from you. I’m running a course in Cosham -let me know if it interests you.