red
bled the sea
with sunset

orange
slid out
on its pastel skin

blue
through the eye
was cool-
cloud
hustled
built up huge

a twist of tangerine harlequin
zapped across the night

sea mind
is
a wind tossed
balloon
as spring sun
quickens on
the grass blades
by the sand bank

white snowshoe
hares
dab the blue snow
softly
in the pines
toward some
great thinkin'

the terror minutes
the poor child had
in the savage black eyes
smashed sex mind
of the cruel killer
the six summers of
her soft memory sparin'
her constructive thoughts
of twistin' fear
brain devoid of "why"
in the black stick
night of his mumbled speech
as he hurt her throat
with a knife
touched her downy flesh
fate spared her by death
for her life would
have been
a tangled reason

Damp uncomfortable
Portabella market day
cold cutting winds
ruffled the velvet covered stalls
everybody is hustlin'

I buy a bloodstone ring
and smile in grey light
with a chilled lip thats taken a sip
of happiness

feel kissed
for i think of you

I feel a hunger and spin 'round
to see what it is and I can't
see anything
maybe you can help me

Draw a D in the dust on your shoe
in the little mainland dock in Greece
the sea distorted through bad glass
a little sweat in your palm
dry your hand on my hair
if I shut my eyes I can
wrap you in turquoise silk

velvet killed
its colour blue
for reds an browns
upon your
beautiful arms
an i can see you
shimmerin
like a precious stone
playin in the lights
of your eyes
i can soak my mouth
upon the ends of the
towrin cage of your hair

Precious little
Do we
Drink the sun
Kiss the rain
Whisper to the wind
Precious little
Do we
Think with our hearts
And not with our minds
Please teach our children
The real scene
Don't let them find out
That good can be bad
And bad can be good.

I've never seen a jerking man touch a flower
never seen a fast man dig the slowness
never seen the dream-end of the ridiculous state the world is in
never seen anger in Joanny when the hate-words of confused
minds lap her shores.


I've seen Derroll Addams cry --
so full of us all that he spills over his cheeks
(I pray he sees tomorrow's sun)
I've seen bewildered rambling streams of blood on black skin
I've seen V-Bombers growing in a field of insulated grass
daring their masters
I've seen the advertisement
"IT'S A GOOD LIFE IN TODAYS' MODERN ARMY"
beside photographs of mutilated Vietnamese children
I've seen the has-been, the could have been
an' the should have been in the glazed gaze of "passers-by"
I've seen the "LITTLE PRINCE" in many people an' felt happy
I've seen people scorn me an' warn me it's never torn me
I've seen the dream of Freedom .........

a sometimes fading image.
                                          Donovan -- Summer 1965

I thank the Queen of Living Things
for showing me each day
All the pretty beauty things
living in her day

And I thank her kindly
for bestowing upon me
The simple gift to daily lift
my tiny eyes to see.

In a silent canadian wood
I walked
the cold air was still and fresh
Autumn's brilliant costumes
lay strewn
about the slender ankles of her
naked trees

O Enid with child is round and good
and sleeping very deep
in shallow shores under sun
moving in her belly dream
(in the rain but no Gene Kelly seen)
Clumsily pretty with babies in her mouth

O Enid with child is soft and mine
and loving very real
if real be short for 'regarding all'
Groaning in her echo sleep
above me on the bed

O Enid with child is pickled and canned
in her salmon dream pink ice cream
(a living fertility goddess)
Knitting a cradle with her toes dipped in sleep

O Enid with child is too far gone
and happy are we that it's so
to recreate for God we feel proud
and this is all

O Enid with child is round and warm
dreaming that a kiss ate her up
all the stars race down the sky
floundering spices catch her eye
as she saves a jar of sauerkraut
from its boredom on its delicate shelf

O Enid with child is lying there
curled like a child beneath her hair
hurled like a star in her vast sleep
like a doll in a doll
though she soars from her deep
to the 'Twelves' minor E, and returns

O Enid with child needs holding.

I was born of Winifred in the time of woe
And I go where I go and I know what I know

Yea, though I ride in some dark strange land
Wherever I go I feel my friend Christo

Go where I may he is always there
With his black curling hair and his sea-grey eyes so fair

For the love of women there has been a break
O such a lot of time those dear creatures do take

Now I am the father of a baby boy
May his days be filled with sun and his nights filled with joy

Younger days have gone we have become as men
Though we dearly hold on to a time way back when

Fishing harbour smells and full days of joy
Still, my son will play with your son one day

Teaching them to rock climb and to cry like gulls
And their days will be storms when our days will be lulls

One day I will settle and I'll raise my doves
As he shares in my life so he'll share in my loves

And when I've found out all I wish to know
There by my side will be my friend Christo

Off we will go with our blanket bed
Off in search of the end where our life paths have led

Here lies a minstrel by name Dono
And here by his side lies his dear friend Christo

...There are some beautiful
quilts of dead autumn in
the woods here where I live
-- a park with a sad red
bandstand -- the trees have
lost their dusty barks to the
steel of winter -- the pastel
sun affording no heat
pasted in grey sky
winter's strange dream of
metal sleep
Today I saw mosaic starlings
cut the air like hurled
daggers of iridescent feathers
(they looked scared)
Black Crows tumbled above
stark dead trees...

I shall come for you to come with me and be my love
when the leaves are falling to their golden death
and the snow clouds assemble in the white north
I shall kiss the spring into your wintry eyes and wrap
you in sheep's hair and we shall watch the rooks
tumble in the bare trees.
Logs we shall burn and drink hot juices
and we shall sleep as snug as rabbits
as the wind rushes through trees chasing the moon
down the sky

all the creatures prepare for the
black hours in holy worship

deep silent night
behold -- the renegade wind

where did we lose the way to do nothing?
somewhere in the childhood wood.
where has our soft-glow gone?
to sleep within our hearts.
grow-up — grow-up — grow-up
oh dear
i want my naivty back
look at the children

once upon a tiny time
a time of touch and tingle
feelings came in river rhyme
fairies lived in dingle.
long ago along a road
a day of dally-dilly
water tasted berry-good
singing shally-shilly
shally-shilly shally-shilly
sally will we dilly dally
shall we silly go ...