"I exist"
"I am"
Obscene boast
"I" who surveying the mess of subjectivity find myself the only focal point
the locus
hocus
pocus
the god of the dream obscene
where all the characters read minds, and buildings half-
formed glisten in lucid brightness, bathed in the clear pool of divine subjectivity, infinity.
Yet i awake into the shadow, the ruin of temporal majesty
where now are my beloved Forms?
spat upon by garden gnomes and
rows and rows of terraced houses identical in
bricks and
roofs
and inhabitants
To dream to sleep,
my roving eyes they long to peep
at
big bosomed maidens
reft of their garments
and
champagne glasses
