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.