This is an outcry to a past like a mosaic in every dimension, to the musical note that resounds through my years and moments like blood through veins and prayers through the lips of believers.This is a love poem to a goddess that was born but never existed, whose arrival to the world was simultaneous with the coming of air ... and light.This is an homage to the shallow breaths of sleep and to the bright grey skies over the foothills of my memory. This is a memorandum to the vestiges of you; this is my epitaph and my soliloquy.Persephone, my sea breeze, apple freckled and deciduous;sometimes I can still see your sun-stained caravan face.Persephone, my song, my hymn, know now that every scarab beetle beats its wings in your honor.Lady, your anorak has been haunting my closet for seven months. Sometimes I'm tempted to fold it up and put it in a box in my garage, but three silver keys and a day in San Francisco (traffic ticket, mirror-ethereal-sand-sky-sunset, ice cream and all ) seem to keep my phantom in its place.Proserpine, your eyes conquer me like 2 Tuesday bells.Every night I dream of your fingers becauseThe lemon-lime monarchy of your affectionsBinds me in a way mere lips cannot!Oh how I thrive in the chains - of your tangy tangy tyranny!Yes, during the cruelest of months was I born, on the ides too, and twice since birth have I paid for this crime. But lo! With the coming of apples, they have returned! Two suns which call your irises home, two suns that give me redemption in the form of words and flowers (which are the same) in the form of words and flower (which are the same)! and as I count the twelve reverberating strokes of all of myself, I see: a ceiling fan , a fleur de lis, a girl with dusty hair and planets for eyes, and a small scarab beetle, weaving in and out of the patterns, sewn like skin to flesh on the blue and white wallpaper that glows gently in the evening."Goddess! oh Goddess, after you've sung rage,paint me a cavernous mosaic in every dimension!Sing that musical note thatresounds through centuries and momentslike blood through veins andlies through the lips of lovers.Muse, tell me of wind, fire,And the shallow breaths of sleep!"

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