The Architecture of Introspection How jealous I am of those I have known Afraid to sleep for dreaming. I fear those moments before sleep When words tear loose from the nervous matrix, And like sparks, light what responses they may. That fragmented vision Seductive of joy and terror, Robs rest of itself. Gratefully, sunk in nightmare, Where at least the anxious brain, Freed from knowing its own decay, Can flesh those skeletal epiphanies With visual and aural coherence, If not rationale; Better those landscapes where terror is Experienced as terror and rage as rage Than this, where either is merely A pain in the gut, or a throb in the eye, Where a nerve spasm in the skin Crumbles a city of bone, Where a twitch in the eyelid Detonates both the sun and the heart.
Reason for writing:
It was New Mexico (July?), and 1969. Judging purely from the
temporal and geographical context, I would guess that peyote
had something to do with it's inspiration, but I don't
recall exactly (but then, I'm probably lucky to recall
anything from those days).
Birth sign: Not entered
You need to log in to edit this poem if it is yours.
View more poems by Ronnie Herrin / Libra.