sleepy little sleep that’s how they’re trying to tell me this time sucked down
spewed up yawning yawning always sleepy little sleep
this voice once quaqua then in me when the panting stops part three after Pim not
before not with I have journeyed found Pim lost Pim it is over I am in part three
after Pim how it was how it is I say it as I hear it natural order more or less bits
and scraps in the mud my life murmur it to the mud
I learn it natural order more or less before Pim with Pim vast tracts of time how
it was my vanished life then after then now after Pim how it is my life bits and scraps
I say it my life as it comes natural order my lips move I can feel them it comes out
in the mud my life what remains ill-said ill-recaptured when the panting stops ill-murmured
to the mud in the present all that things so ancient natural order the journey the
couple the abandon all that in the present barely audible bits and scraps
I have journeyed found Pim lost Pim it’s over that life those periods of that life
first second now third pant pant the panting stops and I hear barely audible how I
journey with my sack my tins in the dark the mud crawl in an amble towards Pim unwitting
bits and scraps in the present things so ancient hear them murmur them as they come
barely audible to the mud
part one before Pim the journey it can’t last it lasts I’m calm calmer you think you’re
calm and you’re not in the lowest depths and you’re on the edge I say it as I hear
it and that death death if it ever comes that’s all it dies
it dies and I see a crocus in a pot in an area in a basement a saffron the sun creeps
up the wall a hand keeps it in the sun this yellow flower with a string I see the
hand long image hours long the sun goes the pot goes down lights on the ground the
hand goes the wall goes
rags of life in the light I hear and don’t deny don’t believe don’t say any more who
is speaking that’s not said any more it must have ceased to be of interest but words
like now before Pim no no that’s not said only mine my words mine alone one or two
soundless brief movements all the lower no sound when I can that’s the difference
great confusion
I see all sizes life included if that’s mine the light goes on in the mud the prayer
the head on the table the crocus the old man in tears the tears behind the hands skies
all sorts different sorts on land and sea blue of a sudden gold and green of the earth
of a sudden in the mud
but words like now words not mine before Pim no no that’s not said that’s the difference
I hear it between then and now one of the differences among the similarities
the words of Pim his extorted voice he stops I step in all the needful he starts again
I could listen to him for ever but mine have done with mine natural order before Pim
the little I say no sound the little I see of a life I don’t deny don’t believe but
what believe the sack perhaps the dark the mud death perhaps to wind up with after
so much life there are moments
how I got here if it’s me no question too weak no interest but here this place where
I begin this time present formulation part one my life clutch the sack it drips first
sign this place a few scraps
you are there somewhere alive somewhere vast stretch of time then it’s over you are
there no more alive no more then again you are there again alive again it wasn’t over
an error you begin again all over more or less in the same place or in another as
when another image above in the light you come to in hospital in the dark
the same as which which place it’s not said or I don’t hear it’s one or the other
the same more or less more humid fewer gleams no gleam what does that mean that I
was once somewhere where there were gleams I say it as I hear it every word always
more humid fewer gleams no gleam and hushed the dear sounds pretext for speculation
I must have slipped you are
Maggie Ryan, Blushing Books