The tea rooms have gone cold.
Without knowledge or answer
I chase evening, the rags
of cities decorate my eyelids.
Moonlight turns, there is no key
to sorrow, each door is contained
within others, sealed in others.
Under vacant skies
I sleepwalk with Pablo and know
only the sure blackness swelling,
the sun bursting into lotus flower,
a poisonous serenity.
Without knowledge or answer
I chase evening, the rags
of cities decorate my eyelids.
Moonlight turns, there is no key
to sorrow, each door is contained
within others, sealed in others.
Under vacant skies
I sleepwalk with Pablo and know
only the sure blackness swelling,
the sun bursting into lotus flower,
a poisonous serenity.
