4 Hypnagogue 4

I caught a glimpse of your eyes
 Last night in a restless dream
 Awaking out of green field blue seas stars
 Your eyes arose like the spectres of flowers
 I turned out the light and clicked fast the door
 The book fell
 I had so many thoughts, so many signs
 I made sense of nothing at all
 This green dream was unreal; the crickets sing
 Across deserts and plains the lost feast
 Whose shimmering teeth are marking the passing of time
 A cloud falls; a bird shivers and sings, its beak stained with night
 Pure gold: the dark is waiting, the darkness is hungry,
 The deep is angry, and the telephone rings on
 A film screen descends, and the silent movies play
 Buster Keaton falls and rots, as Big Ben sings and boils
 On an endless swamp; the silence is treacle thick
 And calls us to prayer: paint God with your blood
 And fill haunted women with knives and kites
 And gauges and valves and make them weep long hyms
 To gaseous and clumsy mortality whilst fish descend
 Remember remember the burning ember
 Embedded in your chest: the soul watches TV
 And gorges itself on blood and popcorn
 Now that's what I call decay decline and hard times
 Hard times, very hard times, Mr. Lindsay
 Hard times and winter so cruel: you have stopped my watch
 At the stroke of three and call for the police
 But there's a time for tea and a time for expiring
 And the notice to quit is in the post:
 And you should know: your
 Little cow and calf is going to die