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Mitchell Duran Aug 2012
The ringing starts with the flick
Of the light switch at midnight

Too literal are the swiveling office
Chairs and blaring telephones we
Are brought into at birth

There was a freedom once that
Tasted like fresh honey milk and
Felt like the first tremors of a
Love you thought would never be

The truth
In that place is
As sacred as the mountain,
The river, the wind, the Earth -
All of space we cannot see

Closing my eyes I
See the future of human kind
And mourn the fact
That I will not be here to
See all the changes to come

Is once
Expected to die

And hoped to
Have lived

Our expectations of
Greatness is met
And we must continue to
Meet those expectations
Or else left in the dust
From whence

We came
I studied a little mythology, some Jung, a tad Freud.  I've read Durrell and Robertson Davies among other things.  I am in tangles over

My Id  is full of archetypes.  My
Ego is aware of my upside down
Superego.  My parents were
Very ******* up. It's no wonder
I lick my fingers before I eat
the soup.  It's the Golden Bowl
thing.  I think that's it.

I am populated with fantasies.
I can fly around the sun w/o
melting, visit Grandma and slay
dragons before lunch.

I save my children from the
Gorgons around them and
clean their faces when they
are done.  It's a hero thing.

I can ****** Poseidon when I
feel like it but that ****** trident
undoes me everytime.

I was your Anima when I was
younger now I am your crone.
I could never get Siggy to
realize that.  It was in a coke
cookie moment I gave my
soul to Shakespeare and
died old and unrepent.

It is in mythology that
you love me. Only me
and Forever.

I am Everywoman.

Caroline Shank

— The End —