Saturday, 1 March 2014

55. Within the Chapel of the Opened Book

             this dream
           these places
             major fantasy
        we embrace
               power anywhere
                    you imbibe
             they are meat

                              a casual acceptance
                                              but here we are
   all drunk as well
                   language changes power doesn’t
                   the world becomes all much the same
                sober actuality
           that ugliest thing
      decrepit fantasies
                         luminous appraisal

some times                 rawness not enough
                      part how
falsifying the world              really
                                  but how
                                    especially when engaged
               and    doing          done    done    that’s
like anything

                          we come to the algae on the lake
                          dear old sun
                          dear old sky
                                              things are back
                   all day

then                                   listen
they don’t                     OK it’s
     mainly                     some days
really       here

look yes                           stare         if you have to
     is called   utopian            ‘s                could
call                             fantasy is                 difficult
                              will remain
     knotted up             the sun blinds          will       be
  fantasy                     ‘s

                              so much easier
                   help us
                                                            just the mulch
the search for origins
                                       accusatory fantasy

We could talk
                               Collective Action
                                                        some business with
                          memory here  
           our friends the poets burning
                                                        past the chapel
opened                                                  to meet & talk
                              inside only           that head thy golden head
           oil & guilt
                                             move on and act

at the heart                 wound
what is actually

       no other people
                             it’s writing or rioting
                 do it right now

                                                         uneasily claiming
                                                         strict dispensation
                                                         that jewelled mask

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