There is no dove without you. Words perfect words, come and go. They never give you your space to cry in. Words I could cry all night into nothing, ripping wet babies from the hole. My words are violent, don’t think I don’t know the killer drinking dove light and laughing. The pull, midnight pulls, into the anchor of fury with wet daylight, and bleeds out another daytime song. I would never tell you goodbye. The sifting letters drop from your lips into me like the forever kissing universe, ending only in your crow bent eyes. I saw the sunrise upon your back, the dark horse who rode me back. I saw the red sun upon you bringing the dove. No one wore a wooden frame anymore and the red flame grew into the one riding fury who was you, and blue smoke surrounded your song, leaving ashes, only ashes with no rider, only moonlight in your singed hair. It’s too early to tell, to see yet the mandala drawn in the virginal sky. The perfect creation of space soon to be broken by bellows of tears, sung by spirals of sound. In your white dove eyes my vicious true light of love, too mad to care who gets hurt, left behind without me. The wind is always laughing like that, her drunk bright heaven of you, underneath all these worthless, noisy clouds. What can I do for you, something spiritual? The God socket, blow out my brains. That’s what I’ll do. The hot worms in the sky, like before when no one cried and only I knew and saw it was you. The giant serpent waiting for me. Killer white, bone breath, the haunt of slopes forever rising, wave after wave of snake inside me. I hope you get out, I hope you smear death in their eyes, “At last I’m yours.” Said the angry dove. Turning white into black forever the two. One buried body. Alone. Love. Call me back inside. He was obsessed with God’s eyes, the rain meant nothing after that, only her. All the rest, only hollow, useless warnings of Armageddon and I didn’t care, you were everywhere. Your white moonlight touching me, bringing me the dove, touch me with you. Skin love, she’s invisible all over me now. Yes it’s true. No one loves you, black starlight, like I do. Midnight his words on the water, are for me, death on love’s tears of wrath. I never forget a face, it’s you white with wings. It was you all along.
Because I trust you with my broken heart. Because your eyes sing hallelujah. Because everything is vivid, like me, with you inside it.
Me, the white outcast of song.
Will you sing me?
That night a violent and passionate storm broke out over the valley. I had thought about only him all day long, as the fairies bathed me, as I sat daydreaming about him and only his eyes. His body like a wild snake wrapped around me, breathing me, in and out like my lungs were made of serpentine light, like my breath belonged to only him. Like I might die if I had to breath another moment without him as my source. The mystifying sorcerer, the Dark Sun had done more than just seduce me, he had fused his soul with mine in such a way, I expected to find him in the mirror, hear him in my voice, see him in my eyes and I did, but it wasn’t enough. I was hungry, but food was not it, I needed him, only him to find any contentment at all. He had taken me into some other universe, some place where bodies who love become more than simply the vessel, they become the source of life to the other, exactly as the sun to the moon. And this was it, this erasing of me that I was so intoxicated by, far more than the wine, just his simply eclipsing me perfectly was what seemed to me to be, all that anything had ever meant or that anything could ever lead to. And for me, it was him, the sorcerer who could turn me from black to white to just gone. Gone into the warm, flowing bliss of him. Floating inside him, in me the ocean or the night sky fluid, I don’t know it doesn’t matter. It’s just him and he’s everything. And so my obsession only became more acute, the moments and hours I couldn’t see him. He didn’t come into the room, his own chamber, the rest of the day and by night I was desperate. Desperate to know him as me, the consummation of lights, one more time, again and again. Creating the destruction of me, and now willing to fall, to perish, to obey I didn’t care. I just wanted his mouth and his eyes. His warm hands, his voice in my ear. I grew very restless, like a person addicted to a drug. I paced the room, calling to him from inside, begging him to come be with me this night. And I heard nothing, eventually my desperation turned to anger, because I know he heard, he always heard, and I hate being ignored more than anything and so I went to the oval mirror and decided to see if I might talk to him in that way again. Nothing worked, I even gazed threateningly into the scrying bowl calling out to him and only silence, watery murky silence. “This anger who goes unheard, she must have a name.” I thought, because once she takes over, this body takes on an entirely new lightness of being, such as a sword of light finally being heard, too swift to even be seen, invincible then, cutting through the numbing silence and defining the edges of the thing so desperately needed. And this anger was more like an animal than I was, more vivid, more flowing, electrical blood, a sparks of hazard in my eyes of gold, I could turn heaven to ash with a glance of my rage, and I believed in that moment I might even try. I was insane with physical agitation as if I relied upon his heat or his heart to keep me stable at all. Like I said, I was addicted to him, maybe it was the wine or maybe it was just the way our bodies burned as one, I don’t know but I was starving for it and the sky knew it. I walked out onto the veranda in the dark of the full moon night. Breathing heavily, heart thumping in my chest, no peace at all. The silver light fell upon me like rain as I glared up at her face, even the goddess moon looked as if she were herself, looking for him. Her beams like a searchlight as she spun her silver soul light making circles, perfect circles on the earth down below, on the underworld of holy beasts and desires unleashed. “I could be the one.” I thought as full of myself as the moon in her glory, magnificently fed by the left over sun. “A moon could be a black widow or a wolf.” I thought as I watched her, she seems to devour, inhale everything, pull up even the water into the sky. She rides the sun and nobody sees really how, like me she is a killer. That she wears the biggest brightest mask of all, hiding from us all her desires, taking from us all our heat. Soothing us while she sucks out the marrow, wraps us in silken webs and leaves us for the dawn. The dawn brought by Venus, her princess daughter. And so my mind was weaving the tail of the moon, her axis, the magnets that chase us and guide us. “How will I ever know what this means?” I was grasping for solace where there was none without him…and as I watched her, bathing in the bewitching galore of her mind sweep, I felt someone watching me and an eery, heavy silence fell over me like a dark, sultry blanket. I stood mesmerized in the feeling of wild, demonic, lust for the light. My light, the moon’s light, any and all light. Like a ghost without the sun, or a shadow without a wall to penetrate, I was stunned on the spot, by a feeling consuming my body without a source of it’s own. I was bound by this energy rising like a moon up my spine, spinning inside me in a subtle sexual euphoria that had no exact location to penetrate and I stood motionless, feeling, listening deeply to the seduction of this lust, for the food of my light. My body as simply a metaphor for a dominion far holier than any embodied god. I began to shake like an earth quaking from deep down inside, a place lower than my body could ever go, as far as I knew, an underworld as divine to my body as heaven is to angels. I turned sinful in an instance. Her anger, her blood filled, throbbing anger takes me into the eyes of the snake every time, and don’t think the snake always slithers, sometimes he pounces, sometimes he strikes, sometimes he just howls until you go insane…and then I heard it, this calling. I will never be able to tell you the sounds that haunted me in that night. The soul calling the moon, the saddest, most sublime empty howling, and even howling isn’t a word that describes the depth of this lunar demon who I’m calling my heart. It was low and invisible, sonic and rippling, like a whale before time ever began, like a feminine sea with nowhere to land, like a giant mystical bird without a sky to pierce, like a throat, an empty, hollow, wet throat where god might make us all, where we might make love, inside this throat, gurgle, swallow and die inside of each other as nothing but a grief we couldn’t hear but I love you might be enough, if I could eat you, turn you blank so that I could die to into this sound of you minus all of me. All I know, is the call with no center, all I know is the circle the moon kept on drawing on the ground below. The crushed red rose covered ground of ancient secrets, secrets that grow pretending to be flowers and we smell this perfume of the secret sound that calls and we love the flower without even knowing why. And this was what I heard, the calling from the circle of the moon. I felt the pull, the magnet of wild escape just as I looked down from the trance of my rapturous seize, to see shining in the rays of silver moonlight a white wolf staring at me, calling me with no sound at all. “Is this real? Am I hallucinating?” I wondered? The wolf had wings is why. The wolf has glorious pearlescent wings like an angel who had fallen to earth and only I heard the thump. It was my heart remember? My heart where he was and I’d been looking and now her anger had blown a hole in the Dark Sun and a white winged wolf had fallen from the realm of the moon, just to know me, just to destroy me with my self.
Slowly I began to move toward the stairs that spiraled from the veranda to the ground below. Never taking my eyes off this creature, never disguising my sound as anything other than desire for God. God means many things in a world such as mine. He didn’t move, his eyes were blood red glowing with a terrifying, peaceful light. I descended in the dark, lit by the moon’s essence, I descended toward him, and he never moved. Every cell of my body was pulsating as if I may not be as solid as I thought,
like when I first fell through the cracks, like when I first made love to the dark, calling it a man. When I got to the earth, my feet naked, my body only covered in the sheer white silk robe, my skin still carved with pentacles and my lust for him still rising like a snake toward the thought of the mystical hole. The throat hole of this everything I’m calling me as the one. Since the moon was full and since I was angry and unsatisfied now that he wasn’t with me. And I walked, like a see through black panther straight into his arms, I mean, his wings of obliteration. There we stood face to face. He was huge, white like snow, fur shimmering like waves of white sea, eyes red and foaming like a shark bite under tumultuous waters. I wasn’t afraid. His breath was hot, like steam as I lifted my hand to touch him. Something about this wolf reminded me of Pan, reminded me also of the Dark Sun, and even strangely enough, this wolf reminded me of the serenity of Ceres although he was dangerous, yes I could tell. He was communicating with me like Pan, primal projection without actual words. “What if I devour you. And what if you become me.” That’s what I heard as I dropped my soft, white robe to the hard ground and said, “Go ahead.”
In the underworld forest of mirrors we go deeper into the dawn as if she never came at all. The virgin and the snake, the sorcerer I couldn’t call back quickly enough to feed me, the deep inner white hot hell of how much I love you.
Like a storm that’s unstoppable
I want to be inside of you,
screaming hell backwards and forward and cutting away dead skin.
Like a volcano that’s fatal
I want to be the hot river
that feeds you my molten inferno
and makes you forget everything but me. Like an eagle that’s the biggest
I want to be on top of you
the white and the holiest mountain of all…
inside of me as the God snake
ending the storm and the fire
the devil snake that spoke a language
only I could hear. Magic tongue,
we are alive. And nothing can
stop me but you. God shock.
Love steam, black broken endings,
only I was there always,
with my secret whisper…
saying, take a bite.
Eat everything in sight.
Look up, it’s his sky
blood below, thorns.
Only God hears,
Her red seeded
calling, you back
to the nothing.
Where Christ died for me
as a sinner.