Les Murray

Self And Dream Self

Routines of decaying time fade, and your waking life gets laborious as science. You huddle in, becoming the deathless younger self who will survive your dreams and vanish in surviving. Dream brings on its story at the pace of drift in twilight, sunless color, its settings are believed, a library of wood shingles, plain mythic furniture vivid drone of talk, yet few loves return: trysts seem unkeepable. Urgencies from your time join with the browner suits walking those arcades with you but then you are apart, aghast, beside the numberless defiling down steep fence into an imminence — as in the ancient burrow you, with an ever-changing cast, survive deciding episodes till you are dismissed and a restart of tense summons your waking size out through shreds of story.

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