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.
