The Bars

(Original by surrealist poet David Gascoyne)

"The Cage"

 In the waking night 
 The forests have stopped growing
 The shells are listening 
 The shadows in the pools turn grey
 The pearls dissolve in the shadow
 And I return to you 
 
 Your face is marked upon the clockface
 My hands are beneath your hair
 And if the time you mark sets free the birds

 And if they fly away toward the forest
 The hour will no longer be ours."

 
  The Bars
 
  In the waking night
  The panes of snow are shattered
  The soft keys turn in wrinkled hands
  The lamplights curl back to shadow.
  The hatchets of memory swing in dream
  And you place quarters over my eyes.

  Your face is falling from the sky 
  Of winter cavern, deep ornate blue.
  Your hair falls in my mouth
  Like moon slit ice.
  If I become warm I will miss you.

 Ours is a map written in scars.
 The opening of the hidden drawer.
 The closing of the circus.
 And the tea boils.
 And the gravestones smile.
 And silence pulsing radar heat.

 Once awake
 This will break apart
 And I will live in it's seams.