gri_2003_m_46_b03_f07_013
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Transcribers
- 65789518 - samurai13
- WINNER - 65861159 - gailkoelker
- 65959789 - pleiades33
- 66134555 - Culebra78
- 66287996 - Preacher357
- 66296088 - applepi314
65789518 - samurai13
THE DEREALISED ISLAND iiAt the lock the water levels change,
Lambent shelves, one clear in light, and one
A dark green vase, lunar in descent:
At night all locks are turned and in the sheets'
Liquid caves and white formations
Communicating vessels sink and rise,
Ephemeral as encountered phenomena,
Or sculpturesque as trophies of desire.
Tongs of light pick up foreground flowers
That flare like foliated heads
In the borders of the country stations
Where invisible signals clank
Like chains across a private road:
Elegantly at first the train appears
Then lurches to a naturalistic standstill
Like a cargo-ship called Semiramis.
Sleeping tonight in a cathedral town
Unresolved journeys of the day revive
Persistent as a martyr and again
The train divides the villages of bells
Where clappers are the heads of choristers.
The pinnacles around the octagon
Fade like teeth as the sky closes her mouth
And night's lips close on the journeying tongue.
Unexpected fragments of the moon
Above the clock tower like a quartered lemon
Complete the jig-saw of the traveller.
I conjecture under a low roof
On plentiful illusions of the prospect
Morning will offer to the optic nerve,
What plot of colour, what elopement
Of the succubus beyond the flowers.
When I pull the curtains I may see
Elms fray into the non-committal sky
On whose choice the centred sundial waits
And early mist support the spider's web
To which a dream consigned the strangers
I encountered in the recent day.
Even the dew does not arouse
Bushes cast of bronze in the morning.
WINNER - 65861159 - gailkoelker
THE DEREALISED ISLAND iiAt the lock the water levels change, Lambent shelves, one clear in light, and one a dark green vase, lunar in descent: At night all locks are turned and in the sheets' Liquid caves and white formations Communicating vessels sink and rise, Ephemeral as encountered phenomena, Or sculpturesque as trophies of desire.
Tongs of light pick up foreground flowers That flare like foliated heads In the borders of the country stations Where invisible signals clank Like chains across a private road: Elegantly at first the train appears Then lurches to a naturalistic standstill Like a cargo-ship called Semiramis.
Sleeping tonight in a cathedral town Unresolved journeys of the day revive Persistent as a martyr and again The train divides the villages of bells Whose clappers are the heads of choristers. The pinnacles around the octagon Fade like teeth as the sky closes her mouth And night's lips close on the journeying tongue. Unexpected fragments of the moon Above the clock tower like a quartered lemon Complete the jig-saw of the traveler. I conjecture under a low roof On plentiful illusions of the prospect Morning will offer to the optic nerve, What plot of colour, what elopement Of the succubus beyond the flowers. When I pull the curtains I may see Elms fray into the non-committal sky On whose choice the centered sundial waits: And early mist support the spider's web To which a dream consigned the strangers I encountered in the recent day. Even the dew does not arouse Bushes cast of bronze in the morning.
65959789 - pleiades33
THE DEREALISED ISLAND iiAt the lock the water levels change,
Lambent shelves, one clear in light, and one
A dark green vase, lunar in descent:
At night all locks are turned and in the sheets'
Liquid caves and white formations
Communicating vessels sink and rise,
Ephemeral as encountered phenomena,
Or sculpturesque as trophies of desire.
Tongs of light peek up foreground flowers
That flare like foliated heads
In the borders of the country stations
Where invisible signals clank
Like chains across a private road:
Elegantly at first the train appears
Then lurches to a naturalistic standstill
Like a cargo-ship called Semiramis.
Sleeping tonight in a cathedral town
Unresolved journeys of the day revive
Persistent as a martyr and again
The train divides the villages of bells
Whose clappers are the heads of choristers.
The pinnacles around the octagon
Fade like teeth as the sky closes her mouth
And night's lips close on the journeying tongue.
Unexpected fragments of the moon
Above the clock tower like a quartered lemon
Complete the jig-saw of the traveller.
I conjecture under a low roof
On plentiful illusions of the prospect
Morning will offer to the optic nerve,
What plot of colour, what elopement
Of the succubus beyond the flowers.
When I pull the curtains I may see
Elms fray into the non-commital sky
On whose choice the centered sundial waits:
And early mist support the spider's web
To which a dream consigned the strangers
I encountered in the recent day.
Even the dew does not arouse
Bushes cast of bronze in the morning.
66134555 - Culebra78
The Derealised Island iiAt the lock the water levels change,
Lambent shelves, one clear in night, and one
A dark green vase, lunar in descent:
At night all locks are turned and in the sheets'
Liquid caves and white formations
Communicating vessels sink and rise
Ephemeral as encountered phenomena
Or sculpturesque as trophies of desire.
Tongs of light pick up foreground flowers
That flare like foliated heads
In the borders of the country stations
Where invisible signals clank
Like chains across a private road:
Elegantly at first the train appears
Then lurches to a naturalistic standstill
Like a cargo-ship called Semiramis.
Sleeping tonight in a cathedral town
Unresolved journeys of the day revive
Persistent as a martyr and again
The train divides the villages of bells
Whose clappers are the heads of choristers.
The pinnacles around the octagon
Fade like teeth as the sky closes her mouth
And night's lips close on the journeying tongue.
Unexpected fragments of the moon
Above the clock tower like a quartered lemon
Complete the jig-saw of the traveler.
I conjecture under a low roof
On plentiful illusions of the prospect
Morning will offer to the optic nerve,
What plot of colour, what elopement
Of the succubus beyond the flowers.
When I pull the curtains I may see
elms fray into the non-committal sky
On whose choice the centered sundial wait
And early mist support the spider's web
To which a dream consigned the strangers
I encountered in the recent day.
Even the dew does not arouse
Bushes cast of bronze in the morning.
66287996 - Preacher357
THE DEREALISED ISLAND iiAt the lock the water levels change,
Lambent shelves, one clear in light, and one
A dark green vase, lunar in descent:
At night all locks are turned and in the sheets'
Liquid caves and white formations
Communicating vessels sink and rise,
Ephemeral as encountered phenomena,
Or sculptureesque as trophies of desire.
Tongs of light pick up foreground flowers
That flare like foliated heads
In the borders of the country stations
Where invisible signals clank
Like chains across a private roada:
Elegantly at first the train appears
Then lurches to a naturalistic standstill
Like a cargo-ship called Semiramis.
Sleeping tonight in a cathedral town
Unresolved journeys of the day revive
Persistant as a martyr and again
The train divides the villages of bells
Whose clappers are the heads of choristers.
The pinnacles around the octagon
Fade like teeth as the sky closes her mouth
And night's lips close on the journeying tongue.
Unexpected fragments of the moon
Above the clock tower like a quartered lemon
Complete the jig-saw of the traveller.
I conjecture under a low roof
On plentiful illustrations of the prospect
Morning will offer to the optic nerve,
What plot of colour, what elopement
Of the succubus beyond the flowers.
When I pull the curtains I may see
Elms fray into the non-commital sky
On whose choice the centered sundial waits
And early mist support the spider's web
To which a dream consigned the strangers
I encountered in the recent day.
Even the dew does not arouse
Bushes cast of bronze in the morning.
66296088 - applepi314
The Derealised Island iiA th the lock the water levels change,
Lambent shelves, one clear in light, and one
A dark green vase, lunar in descent:
At night all locks are turned and in the sheets'
Liquid caves and white formations
Communicating vessels sink and rise,
Ephemeral as encountered phenomena,
Or sculpturesque as trophies of desire.
Tongs of light pick up foreground flowers
That flare like foliated heads
In the borders of the country stations
Where invisible signals clank
Like chains across a private road:
Elegantly at first the train appears
Then lurches to a naturalistic standstill
like a cargo-ship called Semiramis.
Sleeping tonight in a cathedral town
Unresolved journeys of the day revive
Persistant as a martyr and again
The train divides the villages of bells
Whose clappers are the heads of choristers.
The pinnacles around the octagon
Fade like teeth as the sky closes her mouth
And night's lips close on the journeying tongue.
Unexpected fragments of the moon
Above the clock tower like a quartered lemon
Complete the jig-saw of the traveller.
I conjecture under a low roof
On plentiful illusions of the prospect
Morning will offer to the optic nerve,
What plot of colour, what elopement
Of the succubus beyond the flowers.
When I pull the curtains I may see
Elms fray into the non-commital sky
On whose choice the centred sundial waits
And early mist support the spider's web
To which a dream consigned the strangers
I encountered in the recent day.
Even the dew does not arouse
Bushes cast of bronze in the morning.