Glastonbury, 1992

 What it is to walk upon a rainbow

and to find your fellows there…

Broad, mad, cider spirits

belladonna dames

acid rock magicians

lost causes and last chancers

dead dog mothers

waspish rebels

all finding the same

world under their feet

the same beat

the same beautiful, bruised universe

unpacking that same iridescent moment,

moving down into the same

wild quicksilver that lives

inside a song

sent up like arrows

from the rocky weight

of our bodies

to dance

and dance

and dance

and dance

and dance

to dance against

the blood red rose of the sun

music-blind toward a resurrection;

to burst, in that exuberant drugged love,

mouths full of hot sparks,

against a pomegranate sky.