I sit here. Truly feeling like The Fool. It’s the first day of my first year at the Northwest Astrology Conference. My partner Katy and I are very excited to be here. The building is vibrating with the buzz of starry eyed, starcrossed, and starbound. I’m excited for my first, of what I believe will be many, times through these halls and doorways.
23rd day of May 2025
07:25 pdt Takwila Washington
Helios 2’42” Gemini
Day of Venus Hour of Mercury
Luna 13’14” Aries
Gateway #2 The Leader 12’51” Aries 25’42” Aries
Mirror: 0 The Fool “Alice”
I don’t really have much more to say. Though as I was flipping through past writings I decided that I wanted to share some of my old poetry. It’s important that even as I embark on new adventures. I still do come from somewhere. Events, places, and experiences that make up the blood and bone of how I enter into and recieve the world When you meet new beings. You have no idea who they are and where they’ve been.
Since I’m still exploring the depths of my grief. I decided that I should share some of my poetry that I used to heal myself when I was younger. From an Astrological perspective. This is also me expressing my “Loosening of the Bonds”.
To Be “Loosed From the Bonds” is an expression of a timing technique taught by the great polymath Vetius Valens and was taught to me by Austin Coppock (Through his Fundamentals of Astrology Course) and Chris Brennan (through The Astrology Podcast). It’s a point in an extended part of one of your stories in life where you began to do something and then were interrupted from that path. Only to return to it later.
That period for me was in 2015. When the poems I’ll be sharing were put into a collection that I hoped would become a book about grief one day. Instead of pursuing that goal I became the Sous Chef at one of the most popular restaurants in my city and chose a direction of responsibility over personal expression. I took the bird in the hand instead of the two in the bush. That choice is not lamented. Nor do I feel like my time was wasted.
By being in that role of responsibility I learned a great deal about leadership, creative problem solving conflict management, and eventually how to value my time. I met a lot of great people and I hope that they remember me fondly as I remember them.
Like the child of Algol I am. I’m shedding that skin. The loss of my mother has returned me to the Harbor of Leaving. I feel less bullied by the tides of the sea. I feel less hurried to meet Charone at the dock. I do feel the need to share my grief and open up the pages of my heart to share it all again.
So with that here is a poem I wrote about some of the grief I was dealing with at the time.
May the fire inside guide you,
Devon Malone
The Esoteric Butcher
07:47 pdt Tukwila Washington
Hour of Mercury
Woods and Piers
If funerals had pie charts it would be a near full moon of wishing we could say I love you
Just. Once. More
There's a small grove of trees in the seventh circle
When lucid sometimes I linger feeling the coarse scabs of their brittle bark
My fingertips trace the names that trickle crimson bubble and puss
I snap a branch to hear atonal piercing shrieks for one word
Sometimes the chitter chatter, the constant bustle bitter hustle, woodpeckers my brain
So that a seed of self doubt takes root here
At a pier I find myself, Ottis often legs dangling waiting for Charon
I've spent my fair two sense on loved ones given to his care
I avatar a raven when I visit constantly carrion picking at his brain
While my epidermis wades through another wake
When Heath leapt from the Freemont Bridge I know it wasn't the love of his children
That pulled him to terminal velocity
When Jade put the last needle in her vain I hope she thought she would wake up
When Colby died we held a punk rock benefit for his family
All 20 of us got on stage and sang with Larry and His Flask in all our lonely dog howling
Yeah, I've danced in the wake of it all.
Blurry eyed, sobbing, sweating, and screaming
You'd think that these grave stories would stick to this skin
Harden my name, change it to Tombstone,
Labyrinth my heart and catacomb this space
Sure,I find myself seeing only ghosts instead of a point to it all
Yes, it was not easy to not just fence myself in as a Lone Fir Pioneer
Become a place of mourning
However, through the single note of a broken harmonica
A truck driving superhero broken down on the side of the road
A smile that Lou Gehrig could not steal
Dr. Sues on a cassette tape
And a whole lot of pollock jokes
I decided I wanted to become morning
become fluent in Moon
To reflect that: Yes, there is light somewhere
It's over a horizon I can't always find
maybe our own constellations can guide us there
I want to umbrella our thoughts
Because sure, it can't rain all the time
But we can't wait for it to stop either
So I stopped sitting at that dock wondering what Ottis Redding had forgot
Hoping one day Charon would pick me to replace him
Instead I want my empathy
To be hungry
To course through me and fibromyalgia my skin
Feel everything burning
I still try to see the Forest for the tree's
I know I'm Jaded because I see Heath
Trust falling to the river below
I wasn't there to catch them
It keeps me up at night
This feeling
That one day
Just maybe
I can write the perfect order of words
So you can be apart of that 1%
That remembers to say
I love you
One last time
Before you wake