A Poem for Leo


By tomorrow (Sat Aug 12), both Mercury and Venus will have moved into Leo… and a lively, punched-up extroversion returns to the air.

Gone is the subtler influence of non-verbal, touchy-feely Cancer over these two personal planets, impelling us to sniff around what we sense rather than asking or offering outright.

In its place: Confidence (bravado?). Optimism (theatricality?) Artistry (artificiality?) Love (attention-grabbing?). It's on us to choose the higher vibration (rather than sink to the lower?).

In honor of the prevailing Leo vibe now in effect, I share with you a poem I wrote. This piece was inspired by a dear Leo friend of mine who, at the time of writing, had recently evolved into a higher-profile, more-widely-celebrated star in certain circles. While she handled her ascension gracefully, I struggled with my own egoic reactions to her newfound stardom.

This poem was born after the first time I saw her post-fame, and I believe it captures my lack-of-fire-in-my-chart emotional response to confronting her shimmering Leonine brilliance firsthand. Enjoy…

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To love you is not to want to be
you i ache as i holler your name
from the audience thrusting twitchy
fingers into the air to touch up on
your spirit from too many rows far
back the startling discomfort away
from your star a glowing dust-cloud
i see through yet lose myself in abstracting
envy to the point of probing curiosity
which life-changing meeting of royals
made you gasp or choke or feel as
small as i do when i strain to yell out loud
enough to hear is there room for me here
in your fan club my hanging on so desperate
for my own version of pomp without perhaps
the stylish adoration but at least some mass
respect please squeeze me in for dinner
when your tour comes into town let me drench
in your experience forgive the ooze of
wordlessness at first struggling to make sense
you've become this stage of self-evident rising
boost me up and let me join you on the hot side
of the fence where magnifying gazes coalesce
on your own and no curtain, no shadow, no glare.

—Barry Perlman