A NIGHTLY BAND
Grazed by an occipital light
I rise up in my bed,
stung by the sharp air,
and ask dutifully-
from where do you come
and what do you seek?
I do not know what you mean
when you say
‘poisoned prams bear a grudge
or the bombers of Mayorca
cry like babies’.
You are only a dream
and I only a man.
Howling will do you no good.
I was trying hard to rest
when this band started playing,
in the streets I thought,
fool that I am.
I turned on my stomach
and saw the trumpeter recede
into the pillow,
the drummer into the sheets.
And then I knew
from whence comes evil
and joy
and light
and sound.
I am blue with rage
and bleed bits of myself
all over this rumpled bed.
Flattened against each other
we slip through this dreamy world
and waste time to death.
Dreams know the end of everyone
but themselves.
And they find you a place in the world.
And they find you friends.
And they fail at nothing
not even the future.
But I must stoop and fetch water
every day just to keep myself alive.
And my dreams dream their dreams
and sleep their sleep.
And only I always feel tired.