The early morning sun alights upon
the old school hall
battered boxes, wooden walls from fifty years ago.
How it seems like England’s dreaming.
And down along the shore the weathered chairs
and bingo halls,
the sound in cars through open windows
-summer has returned.
But late at night the demon’s call.
Here they come from the ends of the Earth.
Faces from a far sky dance before his crazed eyes.
God nothing is left gor giving.
Must be self-created. Must be all inside the mind.
Outside in the wan daylight
the senseless torn and turning.
Susan walked and spoke the words,
he turned away was running
“Late last night the demons called.”