Wednesday, February 6, 2008

The Ballad of Pan & His Lady

This is an example of my bizarre stint with scrapbooking.

Today I really wanted to write about my adoration of Jane Eyre and Mr. Rochester, but I can't stop thinking about my friend Edward and so my preconceived plan and I must part ways. And for the sake of honoring Edward, I also must turn my blog into a musiclog instead of a bookblog because our days together were much more infused with song and verse than prose. In fact, Edward inspired me to write a ballad which I read to him on the top of the ferris wheel at the Virginia State Fair, probably half a dozen years ago, or so. Like so many friends in the 90's, Edward and I showed our love through mix-tapes and dirges, Ani DiFranco concerts and raves, small femme punk concerts and Neil Diamond slow dances.


Edward and I met my sophomore year at SLC. He wasn't a student there and so we spent a lot of time together in his closet-like room in Bronxville. After he left to major in Social Work and minor in Dance at Cornell, I took the bus up to visit him and he'd drive down to play my savior, time and time again. College for me was more like middle school than middle school. I felt freakish, insecure, dumb, ugly etc. It didn't help that I wasn't a millionare or a model. So. When Edward and I became friends it was like Kermit & Miss (Ms.?) Piggy or Laverne & Shirley. We were meant to be.

After college, Edward and I did stuff like drive to Colorado and camp in the Rocky mountains, live off of gas stations cappuccinos, then camp our way out to Olympia and hop a plane to Alaska (tickets courtesy of Edward-- thank you thank you than. k you) and live in a trailer park in Juneau with Edward's boyfriend before I took a job on a cruise ship and sailed off in a repeat loop around Alaska's inside passage for the next 2 1/2 months.

Edward is now a certified scuba instructor (among many, many other things) living in Hawaii with what sounds like a wonderful and a very lucky man. But he'll always be Pan to me.

The Ballad of Pan and His Lady
The End of Summer 1999

Deep in the wild heart of the West
Just at the end of June
Pan and his Lady cast a spell
Under a crimson moon

By his hoof and her tender foot
There sprung a columbine
With roots like a true promise kept
Bound together through time

Call them morning or call them night
Be they foolish or wise
Pan loved his lady like a child
And they both had emerald eyes

Sky alive with blackberry wine
All for dance and folly
Sad and sweet they enchant with song
Wild Wind River Valley

As dusk falls soft they breathe the smoke
Of juniper and sage
For life reveals both lies and truth
At such a tender age

By the light of the great North Star
Goodbyes need not be feared
Although it seems their paths shall part
Upon the Last Frontier

So sad the stars ordained it so
She’ll never be his bride
But ever and forever more
Their love blooms side by side

She’ll set sail upon the sea
And he will find another
For so I’ve learned it is with hearts
At the end of summer


  1. Thanks for the shout out. I deserve a break today.

  2. oh, my sweet cousin. what a beautiful poem. sounds like something in an ezra pound book. no- what? i was trying to sound like i know something about poetry. anyway, i do have a history of loving gay men, so this poem has entered my top 5. or 10. i'm sure i love lots of poems... i love you, oh great one. your fellow blogger, dyvacreem