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Now, from the horizon a man approaches. Hilarious as the wind he sees in all directions, banishing the birds, the fish, the fire, the dwarf-angels and the angel-dwarves. And in your heart the day lengthens by the step of the cockerel. 84
page 87
the sand orchestra We keep looking but Ulysses has not returned. Maybe he’ll arrive driving an electric car, maybe she’s the crackhead at the corner, sand-coloured highlights in her hair. But why is it up to me to carry the carnival? The glitter’s too heavy. All this tinsel. Yet listen… Those muffled drums… That velvet pedal on the bass drum… Yes, sand behind means sand ahead. When I was in the peace movement we thought the monstrous white carbide star would settle on our roofs and fire like the hair of Blake’s Christ fuse our horizons 85

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Now, from the horizon a man approaches. Hilarious as the wind he sees in all directions, banishing the birds, the fish, the fire, the dwarf-angels and the angel-dwarves. And in your heart the day lengthens by the step of the cockerel.

84

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