The Gnostic Dead In Adoration Of The Lowering Sky-People.

strange curtains awry

landscapes leaking through the daylight
what new disaster is this?
tick tick
everything huddled as though uncertain
what is here?
eiderdown is here
wainscot is [not] here
guitars and books is here
like peering old characters from fairy-tales
they look and one looks back
seeing their faces
fearing a little
still rowdy with dreams
unsure what is real
through the gap in the curtains
trees sway
with their old solemnity
but in here, in here
it is all ruffled white like TV
blinking out the national anthems
at the end of the world

hush now, hush
some beginning of the world
is nigh

.

loved by no one (to Nick Drake)

the hole through this huge rock on the moor
is inexplicable now
who did this?
typhus spread here one year
many dead memorialised in Kildwick cemetery
but the wind now
is almost silent
no matter how strong
you can lie and hear nothing
under everything
the old quiet beneath the wind
the water running
below human hearing
the silence hears the water
the water hears back
this, in running history,
is the meteorology of the moor

.

now love

they merge now, but all night
these children
it's strange how it's more shock than wonder
it's almost impossible to be there
all the tightness, the panic, the help
and then out of it all
another person
there were three in this room but now
there are four
and then it goes on
look at it like it is an alien
for it is
truly an alien
sucking in our air for the first time
looking, trying to look
its eyes all glazed from the viscosity
okay little freaky alien
you have landed
now what?
now love

.