Friday, August 26, 2011

good night, Irene

Pluto Transit
like a hurricane
like a natural disaster
wind and rain laying waste to my life.
tossed, torn, left astray and a stranger
in the way, or at least not the norm.
a sad wastrel left adrift in the storm.
sing my wanderers' song tonight.
let the wind carry my fading melody
off onto wind-whipped ports of call.
my breath's been carried out to sea
nothing left to become of me
once the hurricane has passed into the day
the foggy, rainy day . . .
I gaze upon the ragged sea.
Where's the fun
in hiding in the eye
of the hurricane?
I want to be bodysurfing
the storm,
madly dancing in the rain,
cast off from restrictive form ...
I want to taste sweet grapes
break crisply;
Embark on a journey of ecstasy
to be all I have
thought to be;
Yet safely reside
in a place deep inside
away from the prying norm.
I want romance in the sense of
sensation inviting and free.
I want a chance to believe in magic.
And I want what I want to be
crazily in love with me.

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