no more shade from the skeletal
red buds in the yard, no tree frogs,
no trills of the poor
short-lived cicada
no longer the Spring of your
life, no longer time for
the heat-seeking satyrs who
devour up the lonely grasping
hard at some breath of heaven
you, deep-rooted, yet consumed
by the sun, are fragile, lost...
you, to whom zenith, nadir,
and zodiac are all one big blur,
have changed...turned with the
leaves
eventually all faun gods save one
returned to their
unbounded heaven that transmutes
all, but your breath
still catches, fastening onto
those youthful images and words
the war was inside you, only
child's play at first, but from then
on, with the faun you chose,
the going was harder; now your
friends are all tired of your tears
and who more than you hates whining
you have made your peace, but
what lies beyond the horizon
lures you still, and you will
eventually hurl yourself up, up
out of the mire at the glimpse
of a whole, orange moon rising,
beckoning tide
and love like the Sirens
to lap, lap away at
your heart
--Jo VonBargen 2011
"POWERFUL" "I cannot escape the tearing crash, scrape and rustle of your blind gropings & janglings" YOUR THIN BONES: Letters I Never Sent You http://www.amazon.com/dp/B005LKBR6A
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