Monday, April 3, 2017

revise, revise

On Turning Sixty-One

Fitzgerald’s last line;
longing, lovingly

rendered in fourteen
words, ode

to inevitability
in any tongue.

“So we beat on”,

“boats against the current”,
 our urgent

she bu de!,
she bu de!/

I can’t bear
to let go!,

“borne back”
on music

in the Latin,
de mihi tempus/

give me more

Songs echo
“ceaselessly into the past.”

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