#145 - dramatis peronae

26.5.20

145

dramatis personae

the people of my dream

so many, various and lost

and I to them, as mist

for far

touching till and still

they were marched to the war

from the picture

I knew them each by heart

there isn’t precisely a door

more like a steam rise

glimmer fisted

yesterday’s animals run the show

it’s inside out with the socks

and no beginning listed

weather in the skin

gilt cloud openings –

a call to roof

it’s bible

wheat yellow as the page

fleece golden

can the ways be lighted?

who’ll believe on me?

democracy, all told

restless blithe rough sleepers

ideas are lost in a piano

the after rain drifts

erstwhile snow

each once named now

but not there – no epithets

once we were on the bus

they’re naturals

have written the letters

remembered well as we could

who’ll survive such night?

the fallen drunks uncharmed?

curtains drawn

banquet vanished

brush the mirrors aside

here’s a leaf indoors

to tell of the forest

turned to stone

as with our music

here where the sun first struck

we’re there

chimney high

and gone  

notes from the nerve centre