If love were what the rose is,
And I were like the leaf,
Our lives would grow together
In sad or singing weather,
...
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Boston, Allston- Spring of 1974..... Dian, (Huntress of the Moon and fatal succubus) How my life was ruined beyond repair, after being bewitched by you- and your faithless, clinging kisses. I hope your FBI Boyfriend received a bullet through his most unworthy head, and you were left- as barren as the arctic sea....I often wondered after I left: whether you enjoyed yourself; performing upon that truck-driving urchin who slouched around your apartment? ? ? I will see you in.....
One of the most beautiful poems I have ever read. And yet very unknown.
How does it feel, after all these years, and many a Boston Spring gone by; To have broken my heart, irrevocably, now and always- and my life lost in dreaming forevermore...Oh Huntress of Men's Hearts and the inconstant Moon!