2009
Dream as David Hoyle
Artefact: Column, ‘David’s Debatables’, written by David Hoyle, Gay Times, January 2009.
Just for a moment
The dream
Finally comes true
Vast crystals spiral
Yards of strung glass
Circle outwards, planetlike
A great discworld
Then, all the shards drop
The weight pulled though the core
Clarifying down
To a sole globeheart
Culmination of the whole edifice
Nadir
Or origin
David doesn’t dream for the St George’s chandelier
Despite his love of maximalism
Clutter, embellishment
But
For what can be caught in the reflections
Myriad
Shooting off as multiverses
The audience, sitting
Flipped upside down
In their tidy padded seats
Front, side-on
There for April
Collective breath held
Rapt
Offering
In their sitting
A stark vision of the cosmos
Unaware of their power
Busy in their listening to April’s words
Detonating the binary
Quietly
Breathing softly
Phones off, aeroplane mode
Suppressing a tickle in the back of the throat
Ever so slowly
The spectrum falls away from the heavens
Collapsing balletically
Glorious debris scattering out over everything
Beyond, beyond
A sea of glittering dust
In the midst of this majestic disaster
David counts seventy genders
Using the dolphin part of his brain
That can count and listen at the same time
Before giving up
Distracted by shimmering nose-rings
Envy-inducing blue locks
Electric mauve tendrils
Salmon silk
Relaxing anyway
Coming back to the room
To April
Convinced, utterly, of more
Seventy being enough for now
A start
A clear signal
That the future is coming
Rolling in
With an unstoppable magnetism
Fundamental attraction
Events cymbal-crashing to celebrate their inevitability
Good
Thinks David
I’ll sleep tonight
The dream
Finally comes true
Vast crystals spiral
Yards of strung glass
Circle outwards, planetlike
A great discworld
Then, all the shards drop
The weight pulled though the core
Clarifying down
To a sole globeheart
Culmination of the whole edifice
Nadir
Or origin
David doesn’t dream for the St George’s chandelier
Despite his love of maximalism
Clutter, embellishment
But
For what can be caught in the reflections
Myriad
Shooting off as multiverses
The audience, sitting
Flipped upside down
In their tidy padded seats
Front, side-on
There for April
Collective breath held
Rapt
Offering
In their sitting
A stark vision of the cosmos
Unaware of their power
Busy in their listening to April’s words
Detonating the binary
Quietly
Breathing softly
Phones off, aeroplane mode
Suppressing a tickle in the back of the throat
Ever so slowly
The spectrum falls away from the heavens
Collapsing balletically
Glorious debris scattering out over everything
Beyond, beyond
A sea of glittering dust
In the midst of this majestic disaster
David counts seventy genders
Using the dolphin part of his brain
That can count and listen at the same time
Before giving up
Distracted by shimmering nose-rings
Envy-inducing blue locks
Electric mauve tendrils
Salmon silk
Relaxing anyway
Coming back to the room
To April
Convinced, utterly, of more
Seventy being enough for now
A start
A clear signal
That the future is coming
Rolling in
With an unstoppable magnetism
Fundamental attraction
Events cymbal-crashing to celebrate their inevitability
Good
Thinks David
I’ll sleep tonight