magic boils the blood
and stops the clocks.....

once I had visions
trawled from the depths
saw magic on paper
magic on screens
magic in music

I read Peake
Gloomy Gormenghast
I was devoured by owls
I ran from Swelter's kitchen

I saw Kurasawa
The Throne of Blood
no subtlety
just images sublime
- the hags on the heath
boiling their brew
potions for ailments
smells you could chew...

I heard blues
and the purity of pain
oh strange hanging fruit

...magic boiled the blood
and stopped the clocks

but magic no longer breathes
in my brittle bones

my clocks tick on..

I am wise
I am scholarly
I am serious

But I cannot dream.