Paul Wilson

Here
My thoughts gather them; Spring;
A flock! (thoughts gather –
A key-in-lock) .
...

‘I felt so washed-out - like an indecipherable rune! '
Now shall I numb you with my needle
Or mumble something simple
And tickle with my tune?
...

In the shadow
Between dark and light;
In the suffocating
Arclit compound;
...

How do I know what I am, what I am?
How do I know when I say what I am?

How do I know when I say, when I say?
...

...

‘Goodnight', they said, and left
and I was left alone,
I felt,
Me, in the mothstarred rushing heavens,
...

Who would lay the lion down,
And find in those jaws a resting-place?
Who would he who walks in white
Past the tree and past the town,
...

Was life just a metaphor,
Or, will a flaming meteor
Fall to earth tomorrow
Carrying foreign spore?
...

Sure we are like the dreamers in the cave.
Not recalling our total stature,
Our dreams recall our odd dreams of perfection!
We toss, we turn, restlessly we burn
...

Who are you and
Who are you and
Who are you and
Where are you going?
...

I can see you
Eye can see you
Here I am
Watching,
...

I'll thank you to notice me
As ye walk by; here I stand,
A post-mortem,
And a signed,
...

New world of squeak, I hear you speak
But where are all your people?
They are cultivating their
Allotments in The Times
...

A great new spirit began to climb
Among the spa-attenders; for
The deafmute began to mime, like a flute
For the time
...

I do not wear that unfashionable flower
Whoever bore me left it, singing the hour
Only I tore the hills apart
With my fashionable dart.
...

Through the reflection stirred the pond
- I waved in vain my magic wand.
While clouddrops gathered into rain
- the wand I had I waved in vain.
...

If there is a knot,
It will slip,
And one will smile
To forget;
...

We printed IT everywhere,
Hoping to eventually believe;
We said IT everytime,
Seeming to believe;
...

Oh book! you made me look (and relish)
- hellish fantasy and fugue!
They always said that you were rude
But Mozart always made me sicker
...

Keen notes fill
The gaps in reality
Who are these here?
Small music of air!
...