They say that I am haunted
But let's see if that's the truth.
People think their dreams come down
From their hard-tiled attic roof,
Which is what they call their brains
Not up from the dark cellars
Where hide the things they dare not
See: that can't be flushed down drains.
Truth is, some men have bad dreams,
Ride night-mares through woods at night;
Their dark desires turned darker.
They dream of houses like me
In which to shut all that they
Think they own. But at last this
Grey matter finds its own mind,
Making houses warm and kind,
A home that welcomes chosen
Friends and makes a family
That is chosen too. Too few
Houses have that kind of luck
And avoid possession, not
By a poltergeist but damn'd
Ideas of selfish ownership.
The idea of privacy is not only attached to a noxious politics of ownership, but is also a psychological principle that believed in and preserved the worst features of our selves as secret drams that are other people’s nightmares. ‘Keeping it to yourself’ must be the trigger of most of what we like to call evil and incursions into the kindness of others and not just the kindness of strangers, as Blanch Dubois knew so well.
All my love
Steven xxxxxxx
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