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Helen And Her Balloon


And walked from my life into another dream
Where I might drink more deeply of my madness
Of balloons, of Man’s conquest of the mighty
And strange incandescences cast loose upon a shoreless sea

The elements of wind and fire combined
To lift our spirits into sudden communion
As atop the derelict tower we tasted
The soft kiss of the forbidden

The elements assembled, the flame applied
Fierce tongues so close to devouring
The delicate tissues hungry for the warmth
That will send them soaring

As a lover is hungry for love or death
And struggles wildly, desperately for equilibrium
Against the dangers of the murderous wind
Can our love survive the buffets of the gale?

A moment’s anxiety and then the word
Holding of breath – now we must surrender control
Let go, it swoops once, lurches earthward straight at me and then …
It flies! It flies!

Hangs steady and peaceful and drifts away to the wind’s beckoning
And communion grows around our shared success
As we strain to follow its dot into the far limits of vision
The pointillism of rods and cones

Like all fine art an expression of the transient
In defiance of its doom – like all fine artists
Condemned to drift into the rarefied ether of their thirties
As delivery men or out-of-work piano players

Drifts away – to come to ground who knows how
A plummeting Icarus with a pall of flame
Or a limp landfall in some muddy ditch
Sinking back into the anonymity of decay

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