John Greaves


Peter Blegvad / John Greaves

Town In the shadow of a mountain
Crown of the mountain came avalanching down
All summer long
We were stalking what
We came to call THE SONG.
THE SONG was a kind of eruption —
Mover of mountains,
Avalanche of crowns
When we were young
We sought the laws
We thought would cause
Life is a dream we are phantoms.
Man is the union of Divinity and Dust.
All summer long,
When we were young
Before we'd sung THE SONG.
No mere machine
Made of music
Of words and music
As other songs are —
This was THE SONG,
A recipe, a remedy a cure.
THE SONG would be sung
On the border
Sung by us standing
Straddling the line
Between two worlds
Unified only by THE SONG.

Peter Blegvad / John Greaves

We who knew no woe
        We who were her hero
           When we were on her knee
             When we knew her
                When we were one
        Kew. Rhone.
                   We won renown
We were her worker
        We won honor enow
             When we knew her
                When we were one
                      Kew. Rhone.

not a set animal,
not a set animal, laminates
               laminates a tone of
               a set animal,
               animal, laminates
                      a set animal,
                    animal, laminates
                    laminates a tone of sleep
                                    a tone of sleep

Peel's foe, not a set animal, laminates a tone of sleep

Peter Blegvad / John Greaves

It but incurs
A lustre in a flood -
After many not dislodged.

And at each subsidence
Half arises
Half holds to cloudy water -
Nature of its anchor kept occult.

We keep a current
Flowing from a sluice.
Cloud it with corrosives -
Hoping to appropriate
       What holds its own so well -

       What tips an ever wider wake.