Cities in Dreams

Out of my dreams come cities poured like a swarm of lanterns guides to a civilization filled with seriousness and pities: like snakes which swallow their tails entering by their own posterns they hold mute communication. Neither with inside nor outside. The rainforest shades their squares their chancelleries shelter gibbons in their palaces nest the nightingales. Nowhere is there to hide and listen.

In these places I bind girls' hairs with such feast-coloured speech ribbons as you read here, and court sad saints who with shards of youth and aged hands catch declined and fallen species. With a finger of bread dipped in factual memories or in dreams my palate paints across London a swathe of delicious meadows and footways through lands that belong, yet, to no-one actual.