Assumption of the God-form

 
Sorcery paints a picture with thought,

stepping into that form passes all danger.

It rises up like compressed air

through the deep, Caribbean blue

until it becomes part of the breeze

blowing on the water.

Nuit, in Hathor’s form, bends down

exposing her charms to the world below.

In a dream, people never hit

the rocks when they fall.

They awaken suddenly.

That’s the spirit returning home

so the psyche isn’t creamed.

Some folks wake up with bruises;

they really want to hit the rocks.

When fucking with some goddess

in a dream, who gets stuck

sleeping in the wet spot?

What sorcery gives you is a wet-dream

with no stains on the mattress.

They’re all with goddess.

 

first published in, Wind Row, Spring, 1984. Also published in Love is Just Lust Misspelled, 1994.

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About johnsmithiiimxiii

John Smith, IIMXIII is the avatar of an award winning poet, artist, etc. who still lives in the Palouse country of the Pacific NW. He has not received much notice with his prose . . . but as his avatar, I hope that he keeps plugging along.

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