A BINYARD ECHOES
Can you remember the nights?
The cold sighs after shy conversation,
And playing at feeling old before a day.
The night that hardens like cement
Round a black kaleidoscope of noise.
Still hearing and trying to save
The moonlight slaves from freefall.
Babels made in the catacombs of memory;
The dereliction of a naked scream
As it drowns through the psychic drainpipe.
Remembering the flies in shit,
The eternal fag in the bottomless shift.
The concealed sunsets spent under crows,
Waiting by the electric lamp
For something else to glow,
And sketching out sad rhymes en cigarette
Just to forget.