THE CELEBRANTS HAVE
ALL GONE HOME
Remembrance is a church-like thing. The
girl at the top of the stairs confuses two
words. She's said 'Momento' when she
means 'Memento.' instead. But, I suppose
that happens often enough. The dais rises
as she deep-falls.
-
I must have been crazy once : Now my
own memento mori reflects on life. I can't
see anything but I see it clearly, and the
voices are like something Syd Barrett may
have screeched. I can't be listening to
things so cheap.
-
How have things ever come to this? I
must live in a land where everything is
money? I can't eat. I can't get well. It
all needs payment. The life-lock of the
dimming light is fading, as 'round the
trees a circle of rimless grass has died.
-
It is a land of the dead : a long Lincoln
madness, a centrifuge of winding intrusion,
and my mind has left for some weekend
at the coast, a joyous fever at the palace
dome A carnival of grime, indeed, but
the celebrants have all gone home.
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