|The rabbit hole went straight on like a tunnel for some way, and then
Sometimes, during the rush hour I am disassociated from myself. I am a white
rabbit of the night commuting into the half-conscious. It is a different
world down there: a different journey.
down the moving stair–
into the deep rising croon
of a saxophone
At such a time the mind feels itself driven by stress or repetition into its
own strange tunnels and passages. Anonymous among the crowd I enter the
carriage and take my seat. The automatic doors squeeze shut. I slide into
the wakeful unconscious.
on the same carriage
a row of seven sleepers
in different dreams
The passive jogging rolling journey of the body is mirrored in the unguided
passage of the mind. Sometimes a marvellous thought, a poem, may come
unbidden. Sometimes it is just a jumble of rubbish and undigested events.
up and down the line
Between stations the long cocoon of the train lulls the baby-cradle of my
thought into a pre-verbal space. An image of absolute light or absolute
darkness is approached, both equally comforting and terrifying. A
destination that is neared but never reached
a heavy clatter
at the junction points
derails my dream
And at every station the dream is jolted out of itself. Reality crowds on
with the people. A cold draught from the street forces through the doors.
Then the train moves on again. I try to get back to the place I was before.
eyes fixed on darkness–
the stream of consciousness
of tunnel cables
This stop-start rhythm of the train is exhausting. The unnatural dialectic
of mental states is something to be endured. The mind is neither fully
contained not fully free. Eventually I might succumb to sleep.
the dozing head
and the abandoned bottle
rolling back and forth
Published in The Unseen Wind: British Haiku Society Haibun Anthology 2009, Lynne Rees and Jo Pacsoo (Editors), British Haiku Society.