posted on April 3, 2007 at 9:30 pm

julius seizer standing on the shores of britain
laying into them lovely celts
now conkered
and we ran n we ran n we ran
scattered all over
in caves n coracles
in the groves of mighty oaks
on the enchanted isles
is this albion, lovely sister ?
a magical moon on beltane eve…?
we are the olde people
we were before
hidden in the forests
hiding in the glens
always there but unseen
milking the cows
pinching the babies
talking with the wind
stealing the eggs of birds
when the dragon n lion still walked this land
in summer we slept under stars
in winter the smoky cave
where we dreamed of winding rivers
and trees hanging low
the crow n the lark call in the sky
at midday
on the banks of the river hod
where we sang up the storm
where we dreamt up the gods
where we were delivered
and the big pink moon came down so low
all bathed in milky incandescence
like a whirling disc
the clouds parted graciously
to let her shine
and all our people came out
out of the dells
out of secret places
out of their hidden bowers
out of the trees n earth
out of the sky n wind
out of the deep past
and from the unknowable future
white skin n slanting eyes
graceful dance and strange song
a feast a feast a feast
drink and eat
love and sleep
before the morrow

40 Responses to “baby language”

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