Hanging in my vision like a hole
into a world I feared.
Dragging me into
Decades lay in wait.
Where would I be?
In the first joyous years
A child with every need
wish and desire
Ah! But life is not for the faint of heart!
Where there is the fairy princess?
There stands the Wicked Wood,
a dragon mouth to swallow,
The dragon chameleon and cunning is.
Those tangled stands of trees,
beautiful, glorious, fetching
So tasting enough, and just that until
I become an opium dreamer.
Billowing bright days, blissful childhood
Pubescent poverty blooming ,
gracefully in pain
Amid mysteries, wonders of womanhood.
Clasped fitful hands
Fierce in friendship
That of young women in flux.
Solitary, free moving, thinking, learning
Exuberant in myselfness.
Master of my all.
Life abounds- anything can be!
Academia, oh my monumental muses!
Words in all their plethora, splendor,
spellings, divergence and derivatives,
In the time capsules of the burning truth,
great Southern novels,
Dante Alighieri’s epic trio,
he, dangling on the brink of the very hand
The Wicked Wood arises among the exuberance.
“Burn the Administration Building!”
God is Dead. “Drop In-Tune Out”, “Get Stoned”,
“Make Love, not War.” / Nixon’s our Man!
Watergate, White house Tapes,
Woodward and Bernstein-“Washington Post”.
Every option opined,
Rebelled in joyous communion.
Regretted in deliberate desperation.
In preferred modes of intoxication.
Being Exuberantly woman