Land lies in water; it is shadowed green.
Shadows, or are they shallows, at its edges
showing the line of long sea-weeded ledges
where weeds hang to the simple blue from green.
Your face more than others' faces
Maps the half-remembered places
I have come to I while I slept—
Continents a dream had kept
Raise me more love… raise me
my prettiest fits of madness
O’ dagger’s journey… in my flesh
and knife’s plunge…
I stand upon a hill and see
A luminous country under me,
Through which at two the drunk sailor must weave;
The transient's pause, the sailor's leave.
Something forgotten for twenty years: though my fathers
and mothers came from Cordova and Vitepsk and
Quelle belle heure, quels bons bras
me rendront ces régions d'où mes
sommeils et mes moindres mouvements?
depression is like being on a road trip
but with no map
you travel the long dark and lonely road
Perhaps I'll wake up on some alien shore
In the shimmer of an aluminium dawn,
A stopwatch and an ordnance map.
At five a man fell to the ground
And the watch flew off his wrist
Like a moon struck from the earth