Yesterday I stood silent on the platform, waiting for
chaos…
The fires along the roadside shivered in the
distance
that swam in a breath of inflection…
I watched her undress
in front of the mirror, & above, I whom she
had astonished, a throb of existence
glistened with the dark-gates of freedom, the
reeling masts
swollen with winds that slipped from the south. & we
in the famine of our times suddenly reminded of
the ospreys haunting
the glass. I
watched a stranger with a pistol
pacing along the strand…
Yesterday I sprawled on the pavilion & conversed
with the Gods...
The sunset splashed in the eyes of a dog lying in
the
street, & the sad slow whimper of the end of an
era, somehow reminiscent
of its pain.
I saw night-birds hover above the temple,
there were a few last remnants, we thought…
& a broken cycle lying in the gutter
where luminous fish fed on the livers
of ghosts. I
set forth…
& stood where the sun teetered briefly on the
edge, a woman in pink
stole into an abandoned shrine. I saw the flash of her coat trailing
in a moment that slipped by in blaze of leaves, a
blast of heat in the heart of winter…
Three or four of us now, the sun sailing on deep
horizons
of glass, the drip of light spilling over the sequence
of my past…
& the cask of musk-melons
at the station…
Fish fed on the fragments of our memory, the nocturnal
kind, that hid-deep in the valleys of migrations
the abysses of pain, & those hours of torture they
made us endure
without quite knowing why, nor did we
ask, as some giant peered in with
an enormous eye, & we spoke in whispers
to those who would listen…
Yesterday I rose where the light dripped into
the distance, there was a deep pain in the act of
waking, the dark sun
swam in the sadness of having lived, at the immense
weight that bore down on our lives, in a place
that was vaguely familiar… 
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