the summer of love took\ our minds and hearts sway
10,000 hitchhikes to reach \ in our young bodies of flex and weave
where flowers grew in braided rainbows\ where purple touched the sky
then travelled back to love in mud and laughter\ so now Jimi will be almost 48
Mine is atrocious – Obviously why I make few attempts at poetry with any sort of structure. I hope it throws no budding cleaver (poetic sense, of course) over the edge to freeversanity.
The psychedelic tree brought two things to mind – hope the cleave poem can be read as Thing I and Thing 2. And had Dr. S. had a mind to draw it, Thing 3.
Just image thing three; lounging up in that tree. Read them together, see what you find. Neither a who or thadthoozler, not a one in this rhythm.