for Robert Bly
Eat your shadow as the poet says
And that's exactly what I did
But now my shadow's eating me
Night after night nibbling my ear
Whispering the strangest of dreams
Hand coloring local maps or so it seems
Until there's a blood red tide that laps
The shoreline of Weesuck Creek
And all night long I hear the strains
Of music playing softly beneath
The balcony - a serenade
Strummed on a six string guitar
By the cold hand of fear
The lyrics I remember
But can no way explain
The path inward and outward
Is one and the same as we
Pass through the portal
Of ceaseless change
Back and forth in accord
With our fate whose algorithm
We grasp when it’s only too late
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