Jason, leader of the Argonauts
writes in his log, ‘We have come far
& yet have only found
discarded pieces of her garment
floating on the current as if leading
us on to her lavender abyss;
Asclepius, much like Hart Crane
gaily diving off the side of the ship
fishes her sandal from the waters;

Asclepius sniffing the well worn footwear;
his healing eyes ignite,
‘These surely were worn by the Goddess;
Her foot-odor is all over them’,
the divine doctor says
Stroking the abandoned enchanted instep

Heracles wonders if this is a sign
Or if the doctor simply has a shoe fetish;
Tiresias telling the strongman that
Every fetish has its purpose &
this will reveal the direction her steps have
taken & that it was Prometheus himself
Who gave sheer lingerie to women
To catch the scent & hold men spellbound

After some basic Homeric
conversational one-upmanship
& Socratic back-and-forth,
Tiresias succeeds in convincing Heracles
of the rightness of drooling
Dr. Asclepius’s perverted actions;

The Argonauts are destined for success
By decree of Zeus, father of the gods;  
Calliope, a giant who blows the clouds
into shapes & makes the four winds
sing like a boy band; can become
human size whenever she desires
& ****** mortal men w/ her song

I would think right there on the temple floor
on mats softer than any fur,
We are destined to spend 40 nights
as captives of her furious wrestling tiger-women
whose roar is so loud the sound roils
through the vined jungle and across the tops
of the darkest trees and every living
creature goes into a heat and goes to ground
To mate driven lustily insane by
the unearthly screams,
and just then growls rang out


Her blood boiling hot,
No one had ever come so near,
it was as if a fight to the death was on,
but no death seemed clear


Of all the heroes on the Argos
Only one truly worried; Calliope's
own son would have to endure
witnessing yet again his mother
****** his shipmates; the muse
of epic poetry inspiring love visions
in their heads, meaning Orpheus,
greatest poet & musician
of the ancient world would have to yet
again wield the eternally
perfectly tuned lyre given him
by his muse-mother's master,
sun god Apollo for just this cause;

Another painful reminder that his mother
was a **** who molested him
when he was but a singing child;
she had taught him the ways
of poetry & music but
at the price of his sympathy & as if
embracing the death of love, it would
be Orpheus' task to yet
again bewitch his own mother

Intrigued, Calliope bursting mortal
chains asunder grows into who knows how tall
Only to dissolve from sight
into a swarm of sea creatures;
Calliope, beloved mother of Orpheus
casting bones as the ship goes over the edge of the world;

As if from two separate points of view
the hero embarks on his Quest for the majestic crone,
Only to find his ship navigating through
Amazon territory (so Freudian, so Jungian)
where he searches for the temple of the mythic mystic female;

Every legendary goddess has heard of him
From still-more ancient legends
known only to them; the hero whose name
is as yet unknown goes to the prow of his ship,
at long last seeing her white mountains
& following her thunder

By Medusa & Johnny Noir

Standing resplendent in a baroque topiary,
Under a florid arbour as an arched canopy,
Her pulchritude in moonlight, is the plenary
Picture of, the muse, the Goddess Calliope.

My heart’s reminiscence of our first encounter,
Like a fragrance in my mind wafts around,
Whose Pareidolia in every-thing sketches her
Face, to which it is entirely spellbound.

Were the Fates to keep us apart,
As the sculptor Pygmalion I would be.
But Aphrodite won’t breathe life into my art,
For not my Galatea, I love my Calliope.

Sipping espresso, double affogato of course, topped with cream and
Chatting with Miles, I saw Calliope sauntered in from the rain.
Her dark mascara limped away from her crystal blue eyes
As she waited for the barrister to turn his head.
And when taking her cup,
Somewhere between Bird’s schizophrenic riffs
And Blakey's syncopation.
I fell in love
As I watched  her lips purse and
Blow casually at the lid, cooling the
Fiery liquids inside but igniting mine.
I decided to ask what brought  her in from the
Rain.
My words  queued in my throat as I stood
To speak.
My knees cracked, testifying to the years I stood on them.
My heart tapped out a cadence as I strode
Over to her  table.
I could smell spice and ginger of  a perfume I knew so well.
Her chestnut hair fell in damp tendrils across her forehead.
Extending my hand with a napkin on the end I said, “ I would love if you joined
Me for a biscotti.”
With a sparkle in her eye her painted lips slid across her teeth,
“I am waiting for a friend.”
Walking away I sat dejected but not rejected because as she
Conversed with him she peeked at me
My Calliope
And all was well.

~AD~