I can hear myself think!
Why this morning
As clear as the cold I heard it
As the almost music of a sigh
Convulsed me in its clasp.

I was dreaming of a city
An immaculate city
Passed before my eyes.
Antioch, or were you Ephesus?
A procession of torches
Barely lit you. Immovable sands;
An almighty blank page
Spoke of an absence of belief
And were you not better for it?
O Edith do always look back.

Awake!
We belong to grime
The cities we dream are too clean
Other dreams, of other times.
They were just as ******.
For we are ******
Our hearts gasping through pavements,
Tongues tasting each other in the air.


But I dreamt of pewter skies
Of grounded clouds
And woke up choking
On a liniment of dust.