The Daily Kit: #405 - going to sleep in another language & waking up where you are

4.ii.21

405

2.35

going to sleep in another language

waking up where you are

denaska lingvo

for a field guide to Australian clouds

and for the dreambook

day is a record of this

took a wall for a window

flew

it is my father drives me to the interview

I am of course best qualified

but what’s said on the way?

where were we before?

his is a kind of reluctant advice

so many worlds that he knows are not mine

naked in the waiting room when he’s gone

I mean it’s only then I know I’m

if I’d only thought even underpants

it would be different now

this is all my own doing

and what to do?

back out to the car not there?

or walk?

the street to where?

no wallet no money

no pants to put them in

still proud to be deciding

inside, flimsy carpet

itself under surveillance

and if I go through?

though I know backwards

and must have

(though it doesn’t happen

not to view)

span lost

how else am I in Hong Kong?

agitated in the lecture proceeding

out of spite at the time

(beside me, brute agitant

and imminence – a threat)

all clad now in a vanishing

needing to go

and the only way out is escape

(it’s tautological, but true)

in one room of the sea

where the singing drowned

a beach washed

wake knowing

each chamber is set to its different time

and catch along the corridor

like fate

an age to each

from deeply

clouds all telling too

are they more smoke than bone

you can smell each separate century

see how up down steps

a dance

and song where I was

in the circle before

walk into the last

on into the one before

a waltz and go by river

that’s when we learn to swim

come through the book

made nonsense of

and there among the rush of crowds

the MTR or whose tube?

those who have known me are gone to the story

those who just now glimpsed

I open a door by means of a breeze

this was a power

… am I the same there?

still naked because it’s the truth of me

for instance on the train

or the kind of volume bound to be written

list of what I cannot now do

where I am guided by guess

no one’s been here before

come to the room where we are known

(is not the same as loved, is not…)

there are pages far down

went the long

the wrong way round

my father and I

we spoke of time past

things no longer mattering

how one rose another fell

dawn is the sea in these socks

it’s a Rip Van

words back

shelves of

I am guided by

and guess that no one has been yet

people expect sense of a bible

but come by accidents alone

so many delving to beard a curse

and told-you

a dream

to follow with a voice lost it is

it’s only in the waiting room

nakedness seen

and no one else is there

these are the clothes under the skin

cannot be washed

no money because

no one with wings would

there’s a limit to how many times you can go

could curl up in a question – ask

who is the arrow?

and how have we flown?

as time to the garden is

waking up where we are

going to sleep in another language

day is waiting far down in the dream

we go with the words to be

go to the edge of the known

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