Hymnen: Man Solo

It seems I lie back and gaze upon the stars
spilt like sugar across a blackened cloth,
where each simple bright could warm so many homes
which wakes the suicide I was denied.

I look round this peaceful, complex hull,
and emptiness beguiles like trying not to sleep.
I run away, away to my dreamless years in death,
before this Celeste revives me once again.

I am reawoken each tick-tocking century
to hear a new report saying much the same again.
I'm trapped in disappointment, in artificial birth,
this God rewinds my history, I'm repeatedly reborn.

Yet, as I am reconstructed, so we could inflame
some sterile globe boring round a sun,
infecting an unbirthed peace with life's chaotic charm.
I could contradict my people's stupid end.

image: po

Dylan Harris
88-89

it's my hands
my difficulty with melancholy
hence the coldness
fear in flight, god
dog sea
push pop
all
publish

© & licence
feedback
site home




this archive is hosted by arts & ego
© 1978-2023 dylan harris