Djuna had been called a lost cause.
The lost cause with the golden heart.
People took her hands and they dissolved.
The malfunctions of her heart.
Djuna wants to move.
Everything rhymes with ‘move’.
The possibilities are endless.
There is no world without travel.
The only horizons she knows are open and endless.
Untouched and unmolested by human hands and brains.
Don’t shut her out.
It’s an attitude that disappoints her and breaks her heart.
Let her move onward.
She has heard enough.
She cannot wander if her heart is not in it.
It always takes her elsewhere.
And what is so wrong about that?
The orange is peeled. The juice extracted.
The smile turned away to the moonlight.
And she walks with the wind urging her back.
“Echo” by Robert Payton Reid (1859-1945)
Croque-Melpomene 