Archive for the 'dream of the blue room' Category

Room 165

October 7, 2016

thunder booming thunder
  jellyfish neon jumping
a mismatch of consciences
  someone grabbing your wrist
loops blanks backfires of beats
  graylights on graylights the sky
crowds a-painted stomping
  lost everyone lost, drops &
crystals & trails, screamed smiles
  lasermapped bare feet
of numes in myriad dancing
  sampled voices announcing

Room 164

October 7, 2016

‘‘This little house, this road,’’
you always said, without
ever ending the sentence;
still, it was easy to do it for you,
in the mind, with a smile:
our room, the house around,
our road, never a car
grumbling, always the sun, oleanders,
cries of students under
the bell tower; our
days of honeywine, so long,
and a cat in the empty school courtyard:
something well near eden,
a prelude to the day

Room 163

October 7, 2016

In the vast underground room
the cat speeds through, himself scared;
alone, then, you walk by it:
alone, like thick image past,
the bearded man, the clerics,
you see. Them, hooded, leading
him towards a grim showcase
of torture machinery:
wood, russet and polished; ropes
thick, able to bite the bone;
promises strict & unfair.
In that blackness you walk past
a thought of abjuration;
then later, already out,
in your memory blossoms
a dream-thought, the voice of his
saying: a prelude to the night

Room 162

October 4, 2016

Who’s there?
In the furthest corner of the dark room,
two yellow dishround lights.
Well well, said the cat, who’d you expect?
Whoa, Cat, that was scary.
Scary? These are the topazes that are my eyes. Look! Did you want me to do some trick? To appear with a smile first? No time for that, for the time is the time to go.
Do you mean the dream is over?
The dream is never over, son. Through this antechamber many glimpses of things to come, of things long gone, you were granted. Threefold, and devious, the next step will be.
Three… rooms?
Three, to announce three times thirty three. Come.

And down we went…

Room 161

September 27, 2016

nicht geheuer

Room 160

September 11, 2016

in the middle of this cloister,
a garden of daisies and yew trees
in too theatrical a gesture
you hold your forehead in your hands
to hide from the sun
malignant like Google & his kin
your pointless crying
the small size of your vanities
but fate taught you truces are risky

(neither the clouds are friend to man)

… fever as mean of expression,
death as an atemporal blossom,
locks not getting gray,

Room 159

September 8, 2016

That’s where shadows rest;
Die Tore gehn auf,
could a shadow say,
wenn sie hören, daß solches hier
wahr bleibt…
and doors may open,
may open indeed
(die Fahnen wahren den Schein)
even before it can say
what should remain & stay true
and you may,
you shall pass,
quiet, already behind
your back like a cough,
Ihr Tiefgesenke
mit euren Trögen aus Lehm,

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