I stand inside the defense centre,
tracking the pilgrimage

the summit of probability is a flat plane.
I thought to travel at night

men and women in white coats from the underground
stand around me, tracking the pilgrimage

they are my staff – we’re all guided by the same love-affair
because we share the same dreaming

in this picture Clare and I are on holiday –
there’s not time to think beyond oneself

we’re tracking the pilgrimage. Now I know
how much can go wrong when you travel at night

across the dead flatness dedicated to the market –
in fact the monitors are tracking the pilgrimage on their own

through the middle of the room we stand in now – like in dying
we meet ourselves out here on the edge of probability many times

no one is the wiser – say thirteen many times –
it’s bad luck but nothing happens

my staff are spooked when I turn up just when I’m tracking the
pilgrimage but there’s no time to think beyond myself

I seem to be in at least two places at once,
in this picture and tracking the pilgrimage

it doesn’t worry me: I understand it as an effect of pictures
in general. You might as easily see yourself featured in a
routine of pornography

or in a scandal involving violent suicide, as passing by in
the flesh on the monitor, across the dead flat plane

the media’s got nothing to do with it –
ask your son or daughter if you want to check up on this

tracking the pilgrimage from point A to point B, your
chances of meeting yourself are at the height of probability

a democratic revolution has occurred, taking in the whole
world, because of the need for spiritual freedom

and if this is where we find ourselves then we also pass
ourselves by – tracking the pilgrimage

I don’t have the time to meet anybody except the controllers
of the world, amongst whom I happen to be

tracking the pilgrimage. This is a picture I’m getting from
deep inside the defense system and Clare feels the same way

she’s alone now
out on the dead flat plane, I’m sure.