Goes Right
When you consign your lonely soul
To the wine-dark seas of fate-freighted destiny,
You end up arriving at places imagination hoped never to go,
Spaces where apocalypse hides under every rock.
This leaf-quivering Friday evening
Is one of those rare, fabulously miraculous exceptions,
When everything that could go wrong goes right.
That it begins with a rife breeze careening across this café's patio,
Where I sit composing heroic narrative poetry,
Certainly increases the chances
That winds billowing the sails of my odyssey's vessel,
As I head urgently, impatiently home, to Troy,
Will affect me equally, emphatically,
Serve as my astrolabe and compass, my moon and stars.
Indeed, this balmy night of my June solitude,
A cool, soothing whisper of divinity
Brushes across my eyes, my stubbly chin, cheeks,
Beckons my fatigued spirit to follow it to wherever it might be bound.
Without giving it a third thought, let alone a first,
I mount its airborne combers, prepare for my daring cross-country,
And surrender to the waves flowing, perpendicularly, inward,
Guiding my soul home, to the kingdom of Ever-Ever Forever After,
That land which suckled my puckered lips, at its tender breasts,
So long before I left to defend my royal birthright.
Tonight, I remember everything I've ever forgotten
About the end of death, the beginning of life, ad infinitum,
And realize that Homer and I are blood-brother poets,
Speaking to each other, across mind-bright seas.
06/11/10 - (2)
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