By Jupiter light I sit

as it rises , royal out of the East

what wise men need to tell of its beneficence?

 

I watch it track up the zenith

and sleep, Jupiter mid-heaven

tickling the Scorpion’s tail

the fields of rollicking air my pasture of dreams.

 

And I ponder “ah, yes!”

poring over the charts in my mind

to place that large spirit

- define its station.

 

Mine, sky high, loudly visible

riotous, exuberant even

while Neptune in my Aquarian home

- myth-maker, siren, spideress

washes her hands of those scandalous concerns

And transmits the Muse.

 

And you, must I guess?

Latitudeless and longitudeless

timeless, improvident, I must!

I see it, if not in it’s own roving Centaur’s Sign

traveller, hobo,  seeker, boiled-egghead thou

I see it in Leo’s lascivious realm

or my own - fire to combustible air -

in some wild, pagan place for sure.

 

By the time I sleep it will  be climbing over your wall

bringing a message from me - hi there my friend!

spark to my stormy skies

and I, breath to your fiery soul

to stir you, cause you to zither and dance, flare up and crackle

take in the tempest ions well charged

and let them seep, prana prancing into your dark root

where even the flame does not reach.

Jupiter!

 

 

Nov. 1987