CLOUDS

It was the burning within the rain,
a breathless utterance of numbered words,
the gallops spiralling through the illuminated theatre.
The hours, narcotic, like an impatient hum.
In the evening air, candles dance beneath stone clouds,
sky and earth flickering into light and darkness
within the delusion.Bubbles of gifts will drift far away,
toward the silver horizon.
Deep in the heart of winter,
chance prayers will give birth
to the new deprived man.
Like a mechanical scalpel, like a stammer,
upon the self-governing, fractured substrate
that will never be perceived.Speak to me, and I will listen,
I, the inorganic redeemer.
Tell me the secrets of your secrets.
Be silent forever,
and I will understand.
I, a cold blade
in a mindless meadow.