1.Blackbird   (Lennon/McCartney)

2. Night Bird Flying   (J.Hendrix)

3.The Aeroplane Flies High   (Smashing Pumpkins)

4.Uncle John's Band   (Garcia/Hunter)

5.The Narrow Way   (Gilmour)

6.Mountains of the Moon (Garcia/Hunter)

7.At My Window    (T. Van Zandt)

SECOND DAY - Flight of the Marie Helena (Robert Hunter)

The dawn beside the lee
in morning aquaglimmer:
a clear prophetic seawalk
leads to afternoon.

A thousand different lines
can populate a song and
not disturb the sequence
of its melody.
Music hath no need of guardians.
Her sweet guitars,
harps, bells and calliopes
defend her.

Not the subject,
but the cadence;
less the cadence
than the tone...

Less subject, tone or beat
than angle of coincidence
seeking satisfaction of a
seventh sense of symmetry.

The Marie Helena glides upon
the bright white ocean of
our second day.
Everyone aboard her is
a stowaway. There were
no tickets for the passage.

Hanged in their lineaments,
sinister spinsters prowl
the foredeck and the aft
in search of lost angelicacies.

Thus do they paper their
implausibility with regret,
decline to elaborate.
Thin, wicked and celibate.

Thus do they signify to me:
they remain in some sense
chained and offer constancy.
I'd not free them for the world.

They will scrub the deck for secrets;
discover blood drops and hasty
crumpled notes of secret love.
They will find small things of value
which they will not return.
God bless them.

Bell tower, peal forth.
Awaken all sleeping souls.
Shovel the master from
ashes, an approving flame.

The more the eyelids lower
the more an internal visor
opens on a vast
mechanical vista.

Words of emerald
shine beneath a
slow flowing sea with
light sighs and laughter.

What was it we feared when
setting forth to sail upon
this cheerful raft upon
this sweet and glossy sea?

Relax! Fear is endless
but here - oh, here is
time for music, for philosophy,
for poetry and even love!

Here is time for recognition,
reunion and recompense.
We will sail unto
whatever port the winds prepare.

Ah, blessed second day!
Two smiling dolphins breast our wake.
Lost from sight, our shore becomes
the lost blue peaks of memory.
 

INTERLUDE

An almighty knock
shatters the placid waves.
The sea becomes the sky
full of foaming flame!

Veins of the waves
bulge till they burst
and turn the sea to blood.

A raft has no fore or aft,
the Marie Helena has no sail.
Hell's own violin and Bacchanale
upon the southdeck wail;

"This is my creation!"
cries the thunder.
"I am pleased!
Now mop it up!"

To be done! To be done!
And then, under a swell,
sat down forcibly and
lectured by a cloud.

As I rolled to St. Alair,
the cloud declared,
I met a crippled king
with four fleshless hounds
leashed by seven chains.

A queen had he on the right arm
and three queens on his left.
Each queen had seven tongues,
each tongue of two opinions.

He combed the twelve hairs of his beard
with a currycomb of glass -
Ten tines had it on a time
but four, alas, are broken.

God above and Christ below,
counting the king, the queens,
hounds, chains and all
the several other things
how come
it rarely rains
in dreams?
It is because
there is no need.

There are dreams in which
other dreams are mentioned,
contiguous in symmetry, but,
in dreams, it very rarely rains.