VERSES FROM VARIOUS SOURCES
From THE ENDS OF OUR TETHERS 2003
Poem: Alasdair Gray © 2005
19 – Outing attributed to Luke Aiblins
of docken, nettle and convolvus
does not belong to us: only to me
whose nostrils gladly drank the stink
of vegetable sweat,
whose ears sucked in the sullen
whimper of the gnat’s wing,
who gladly felt the wet sting of smirr
upon the cheek.
So do not talk, say no word to me
but walk in stillness on a path of moss,
a slope of trees upon our right hand side
and on our right the cluck & flow
of a wide stream.
I do not know what you see here.
I do not want to know.
For if each tries to see those things
the other sees
our probing eyes will shatter
the brittle matter of the other’s dream
so each of us will be
inside a toneless, tasteless, aimless world
Walk in my dream and I will walk in yours
but do not try to share our separate dreams.
two dreams can touch, I think,
but there’s an end
of dreaming if we try and make them blend
for this can only be when both of us lie bare
and I have felt the ripeness of your flesh.
When bodies mix
then even dreams can melt.