@ 27.055 MHz: Ad Astra; Tanka After Richard Wright's Haiku # 721, For Cerulean During Autumn, 1976

Canpus:  night sky, like

his socks; shooting stars like streaks

of sweetness sprayed on

them (I wish!):  my rage toward my

parents subsides for a while.






Author's Notes/Comments: 

The enforced separation (September 9th through November 23rd, 1976, of my matriculation to college, at a dorm school two hours northeast of our small rural town) from Cerulean was just one more incitement to anger caused by the prejudiced hostility of my parents.  Still, certain conditions of sunlight (like that on Saturday mornings, especially, with the anticipation of Cerulean's company for most of the day) and night skies the color of his socks, and the way I wished that I could someday decorate them, provide brief respites from the rage I felt toward my parents.

I remember how beautifully intense was the sunlight, on campus, on the morning of Saturday, September 11th, 1976.  I was reminded then, as I am reminded now, of another sunlit Saturday morning, June 19th of that same year.  Although Cerulean and I had not yer acquired our c.b. radio, and I had not yet found (with his help) my first handle and appellation, Starwatcher (which later evolved to Starward, as it is now), our friendship was already well established, and, as I crossed the parking lot of our local Gold Circle department store, that morning, I almost trembled with the excited anticipation of the afternoon we had planned to spend together.

A week later, I visited the college library, midmorning, on Saturday, September 18th, 1976 (when it was sparsely populated; that particular college was a party school, parties beginning Thursday nights and lasting into Sunday mornings),  and found, by random browsing, a historical monograph, from the early twentieth century, on the French Revolution of 1848, and the founding of the short-lived Second French Republic.  Several of its footnotes cited Historie De La Revolution De 1848 by Daniel Stern (pen name of Marie Comtesse d'Agoult), which thrilled me---having become aware of Daniel Stern's literary accomplishment during my more extensive study, in the summer of 1976, of George Sand (they began as acquaintances, became friends, then rivals, then enemies---although, shortly before her death, Daniel Stern sent George Sand a reconciliatory letter, which remained unanswered).  Although the historian (whose name I have forgotten) disrespected Daniel Stern by stating, in each footnote, "In her History of the Revolution, Madame D'Agoult suggests . . ." (or some variation of that phrase), her History was treated as an authoritative source on that event.  Reading these with increasing fascination, I suddenly felt the presence of Cerulean, not physically but certainly poetically.

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