Holy Sap

 

Winding within winds, and flitting thinly through thought

from uttermost aeons,

aged and ravenous with shiverings in its wake,

seeping through bone and silently fingering the folds of her mind.

 

The owl-haunted belfry pricks the sickled starry sky.

Necrotonal waveforms slide sickly in haunted airs.

Hidden door in hollow hill nihil ajar in sunless yew trees

gothic skelf glens flowing with limpid burns of holy sap.

 

Sun disc dawn fruit of the whorled tree

ruddy pied radiant splayed o’er pale pillar

glandular capped piping moon-spawn rivulets

from cat-haunted hunts for the dog-bright star

 

Serious eye over Atlantis Egypt-driven and Christ-fuelled

Horus on horizon Bridhe asleep dreams stone aisles wells

and birch knolls leaves fairy folks in old oaks closed.

Metamagician.

 

Dream-punctured curtains of night cloak the fervent cottage.

Burn witchfinder’s daughter unholy water, lost in the last woods.

Un-nam’d forms deviously patterned fretting at the borders zealous and watchful.

In the stale room a ticking clock slowly on the lacework dies.

 

Wrong rites writ forbidden laws observed. Spiked song in strange scales burrows and coils sickly antisunwise transfixed writhing bloodly arched guitar grove theolithic altar whimpering thicket voice deep in degenerate wood throned the Unborn secret fire the Unbegotten fathers the Black Goat With A Thousand Young shrouded ascetic under pulsing waves of elsewhere twined for starlags in the nevermind.

 

‘You shall starve and the vultures wil eat’.

The hissing died to a tremulous whisper.

‘We are your offspring’ was the distant answer.

 

Mind burns. All fires are one.

Published in 'You Do Voodoo' (Polarcap, 2007)