#582 - from a pogrom

 

6.viii.21

582

2.217

from a pogrom

or

I am always imagining another world

notes in English towards kvazaǔ   

also for sleep to dream again

 

 

I am always imagining another world

I dreamed you were a flower, a tree

 

we’d been here all along

for instance you drove an elephant taxi

I had to show you

because you were in the cabin

and wouldn’t have known

 

my father upstairs

stirring late

but okay, old now

perhaps the brother beyond

 

I consider just leaving my suitcase

for instance on the train

(a place of casual violence

where the sturdy burghers go about

deferring to authority, skin, shapes

of suspicion… it’s wartime

and the bashing, the blood, the broken glass

                                                     indicates a spy)

the countryside passes, we’re almost there

 

it’s a bag of tricks

my everything now, that luggage…

full of funny hats and faces

jokes told generations ago

a certain telling twang…

still I think of leaving it, to live

to be unburdened

it must be in the blood

always imagining another world

 

 

on the station in orbit

and about to beam down

when I ask about oxygen on the surface

only then learn there is none

I’ll pass (close call)

I mean thank you for the opportunity but

 

the other mission I could attend

is disarming the core of the reactor

chance of success is low

 

pyjamas!  and I had to stay

acres of inside

history

and nothing ever lost

all given

 

it’s all directions, the heart

and upside down of course

one is full of misgivings there

 

in my dream

fountain breezes, one wonders

am I stuck in someone’s head?

 

old gods inhabit

and altogether now

‘I am a man of dust’

repeat

 

this isn’t happening

this is a dream

 

I am healing here overnight

it was with the early hours, driving

I would be found out

 

come to the end of the line

high in the day

where we trick on the reverie

 

I die

and they tear me to pieces

it happens word by word