posted on June 22, 2008 at 9:07 pm

the third and final time i saw you
under beech trees and clotted clouds
you defied gravity just by standing there
with nature as your green mirror
with living stone you walk and talk
touching the naked hills with your loving tongue
seducing the very valleys as they rolled away
supplicating to be made whole again
i ran towards you faster and faster but getting nowhere
i can see you becoming farther and further away
i can see how the land is joined to the sky now
i can see the invisible mending that will sew what?
stitch stitch stitch
the moss goes on the boughs
the stones go on the ground
the birds go on the sky
the sky should be blue
the blue should be bright
the bright should be….oh i dont know baby
the rabbits should chase the fox
the lambs and the lions….i’m all mixed up
the meadow is speaking in flowersong
the path that i followed which ended at your door
now i’m not so sure
the bats which sleep in the woods
the witch in her cottage preparing a brew
the children are frightened out here on there own
no father dont send us out into the great forest alone
no father dont you see
that woman wants us gone…..
i follow my path over dingly dell
through rooted knotted places like elfish bowers
and i cut my little name on all the great trees
sometimes i carve puck
sometimes i burn the word ariel into the bark
sometimes i flash through the brook like a lure
and i hook eels and minnows for my supper
sometimes i hide in your ear whispering
sometimes i appear as fireflies leading you astray
sometimes i am seen as a great grey wolf
on the feast of stephen i am a dark shape in the snow
i stand outside candlelit windows
whimpering below the winds own voice
god rest ye merry gentlemen let nothing you dismay
then i carry off the lovely ladies to my lonely den
where they discover i am a reasonable beast after all
yet i am myself devoured by the darkness of their piety…
when spring returns to bohemian lands i am a lark
in summer i am seen as adam naked and unadorned
and i wander this garden alone
then as the autumn fills mens hearts with gloom
i open a door in a hollow tree and i escape to lyonesse
or italy
or i stay and lie low until next may
under the fixed green star of venus
under the wandering leaves
until the green shoots burst gently from their beds
until my love awakes in the soft light of love
until a new day dawns with an avian fanfare
where we tumble alive from darkest dreams
and some brave knight arrives with joyous christian tidings
and the monsters are hounded out of our lands
the dragon defeated and his lair destroyed
oh my lovely love dressed all in cambric
oh my lady love a’walking through a new morning
blue birds singing and daffodils shyly peeping
let the colours be unfurled
let yellow equal gold
let white equal deepest silver
let her eyes burn like a blue sun
let all creatures be in praise of god
let his joyful creation be unveiled in all its splendour
let eden be reopened at last
we will sing a glad song again
io io ao io
pan will appear
grapes and wine
ah! merriment and laughter
goodbye sadness
loss grief pain
now all banished
now all vanished
forever and ever

16 Responses to “mimeographic day”

  1. avatar
    eek | 22 June 2008 at 10:46 pm #

    Lovely blog today.

    And lovely idea/hope too.

    Maybe someday….

  2. avatar
    fantasticandy | 22 June 2008 at 10:55 pm #


  3. avatar
    princey | 22 June 2008 at 11:05 pm #

    Oh happy days are here again….loved it sk, love and happiness all the way!

    It’s over too quickly after reading your blog in the mornings sk, remember you used to write 2 a day for a while?…yeah I know “dream on babee!”. Ok I’m thankful for one a day, thanks lovely love!

  4. avatar
    kat | 23 June 2008 at 2:06 am #

    the awesome trilogy blog. what more can we say ;]

  5. avatar
    CAPTAIN BEYOND | 23 June 2008 at 2:58 am #

    sooner than later i hope…

  6. avatar
    Anonymous | 23 June 2008 at 3:32 am #

    Oh hell yeah.
    A wonder filled Utopia.
    Sign me up.

    Tampa, Fl

  7. avatar
    Anonymous | 23 June 2008 at 7:14 am #

    We were in a gallery of swimming pools in Greek Heaven, a hanging garden where threads of cultivated waters were separated by small sections of flowers. Your breakfast was sumptuous, served in polished sight-hurt-white china only tragically coloured by some mandarin orange juice. That was the recharging meal you needed after the ecstatic night of unlimited pleasures. You were reading the paper in a foreign language through cosmic transmission cause you wanted to know what was going on in the world you’d never visit again, the place where I came from by chance. Somehow you wanted to learn about our spirit and skin but we seemed to have the same cultural references. In fact my father had lived in some worlds where you lived. He was perpetually under Flower Power influence, painted exquisite colorful planets in gouache and engaged in a duel between his intoxicating vanity and prepotence and his unbelievable fear of succeeding. He was kinda sardonic prophet of existential-nowhere, unsure of life and death, always wearing a lovely, wise and tired smirk that never ceased to fascinate me. UFO, progressive rock and Playboy magazines. I could tell you and I were closer in thinking than what you were thinking. But you kept locked in some preconceptions about my people. At the same time I wasn’t from my people, my father quite wasn’t either. And you were seduced by that alien atmosphere produced in your mind. At the previous night you wanted me to wear an exotic mask from MEMORY but you were more enticingly challenged and entertained by my refusal to obey. That would only cause the mutually allowed favors to be even more fruitful and exhilarating later. You knew I’d play the harp of your fingers and take the stormy sounds of Mars to life. You knew I’d be the silky body of my words in your lips. You knew I’d put you in my arms and make you feel sheltered by the gold-sprinkled air around me. You knew I’d never be quite like your fiction but more fertile than that.
    There I was standing outside the door of our room which actually had no doors, just the dangerous openness of invisible gates to remote unexplored shores. I was watching you reading in all the splendor of your fortunate genius yet in a methodical effort. I realised then how you were the impossible marriage of intuition and mechanism, sensibility and discipline yourself. Fire and earth. I also noticed for the first time that you had lacerated your own mask and I was able to believe in that very glorious day again. I was able to see you after all. We had finally made the pact of being ourselves.

  8. avatar
    captain mission | 23 June 2008 at 8:45 am #


  9. avatar
    autobiography not prose poetry | 23 June 2008 at 9:17 am #

    Yeah, yeah,and the stuff about the late 60s & early 70s will appear when?

  10. avatar
    autobiography AND prose poetry | 23 June 2008 at 10:44 am #

    I like both (missus!).

  11. avatar
    restaurant mark | 23 June 2008 at 12:20 pm #

    a lovely trilogy…see you could write a mini-series. another avenue for you to explore…steve kilbey the tv and movie writer??? i mean, for me…you can just write songs and that’s plenty. but an option, perhaps?
    well, after a long weekend of being joined at the hips with my wife i’m off out of town again…blahhh…talk to ya friday everyone.

    take care

  12. avatar
    ross b | 23 June 2008 at 12:29 pm #

    this reads like paradise Steve, a tolkienesque medieval tale of wonder..

    there’s no turning back the clock is there (or turning off the clock) *sigh*

  13. avatar
    melissa | 23 June 2008 at 12:47 pm #

    beautiful, dreamy blog today .. thankyou SK! I dunno, I just love that line.. ‘sometimes i hide in your ear whispering’


  14. avatar
    Brien Comerford | 23 June 2008 at 2:09 pm #

    Another mystical and at times euphoric blog. The latter section of it was nicely reminiscent of Isaiah’s idyllic and visionary chapter 11.

  15. avatar
    davem | 23 June 2008 at 7:50 pm #

    “then i carry off the lovely ladies to my lonely den
    where they discover i am a reasonable beast after all
    yet i am myself devoured by the darkness of their piety…”

    You’ve met the wife then, killer?
    he he he. In jest missus m.
    A brilliant blog today sk.

  16. avatar
    lily was here | 26 June 2008 at 11:02 am #

    To steal Chrissy’s lines…(no, not yours Andy ha 🙂 from hymn to her. I thought of this as a prayer and then got to the last word. Amen. Awomen


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