wrath comes bearing lilies in the
green-wrapt dawn, wings bronze against a
newborn sky - blue lilies, crowned in
emeralds. before mine eyes - revelation.
"set up thy altar" she commands, "set up
ten thousand altars in My name and hold
all before Me. in wormwood be betrayed,
redeemed and cast in shadow - in doubt,
be sanctified. in My name, be praised."

she dissolved with dawn, wings coral
against an absinthe-strewn dawn, ivory
filaments against the green of sea and
foam salty upon my lips - "drink of Me
and be redeemed" - and in every corner
was wrought the smallest sign - a book,
a stone. a half-burnt candle, perfume
for wrists - a pendant hung from the
curving corner - masks upon the windowpane.

"come man, come" she cried, Desire, and
ordered Her altar be set with ginkgo
leaves and roses "let him come, let him
come" - a canvas strewn with petals and
candles and Her fair face - and miracles
were begot in the washroom, in the corner,
within the halls of learning - a thousand
tiny gods who gave praise to Her name. and
so it was again. "come!" She cried, and so
it was.

her wings were not of which I speak but
emerald, seafoam, verdigris, absinthe-stricken
I gazed - but sober too, for She cried out to
my victory - "come, daughter, come" and raised
me up, bade me drink of Her cup - and then the
dreams.

nothing more.
haruspex: babylon (reading bones)
( Aug. 13th, 2006 09:41 pm)
As seen in a dream. Or somewhere. Can't quite get the image out of my head.


A short, slender woman seated on a stone bench that has curved arms like this. Her hair is loose and unkempt; several clay bottles are clustered around her bare feet. One of them has been tipped over onto its side, spilling the wine. She is dressed in a ripped and torn flounced skirt in this style. Her face resembles the sylph in this painting, but the eyes and nose are concealed by a veil. Her hands are folded her lap, almost covering a wickedly curved knife - she wears a small, almost contemptuous smile.
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"I am chaos. I am the substance from which your artists and scientists build rhythms. I am the spirit with which your children and clowns laugh in happy anarchy. I am chaos. I am alive, and I tell you that you are free."

Time to reread the Principia Discordia. And time to order some Crowley from the Eye. I foresee a great growth on my metaphysics shelves, and possibly some interesting essays for certain local presses.

I've had "Rocks and Trees", "Lobster Submarine" and "This Corrosion" stuck in my head all day. It's a surprisingly good combination.

I might be hitting the Falls later tonight for some guerilla shrining and photography. We'll see.

It seems to be a day for quotes. Have another one.

"It is a little known fact the the so-called "Law of Gravity" was actually one of Sir Isaac "shecky" Newton's best practical jokes, and it was such a wonderful knee-slapper that generations of teachers have devoted themselves to keeping the hoax alive. In truth, there is no such thing as "gravity." Rather, the Great Earth Goddess sucks."
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