I feel the fire of her furnace on my face
as I forge and temper my athame
shaping and forming magick
in the belly of her bright flame
consecrated by the heat of her womb

honey scent

I miss the golden flower between her legs
and the heaven sent honey scent
holy rain purified by the touch of her skin
collecting morning dew from her petals
drinking deeply ambrosia for faeries
bringing her polished chalice to my lips
every drop is pleasure to me
every sip is ecstasy to her

a warning

The crucifixion is a warning that everyone that does not conform will be a target. The world will try to violate and emasculate anyone that does not fit in.

This is also a warning to the community to not destroy the men. It’s easy to reduce men in the community to either sex toys or emasculated buffoons. It’s harder, however, to accept men as being complex. It’s not enough for men to be sexualized as lovers. It’s not enough for men to be emasculated as feminine or safe. There’s more to the gods than that. There’s more to men than that, just as there is more to women than the simplistic view society enforces.

his compost

original thoughts are not his forte
unless by “original” you mean “imperial”
from his office above the garage
he pronounces his edicts over the intercom
that echo through the house
whether there’s anyone to listen or not
so it’s hard to care
he doesn’t think anything
that he’s not hear or read
he doesn’t say anything
that he’s thought himself
in his tower of equipment
for moving stuff
the stuff that he moves most
is his own compost
so it’s hard to care
except he’s a bastard if ignored
so he bullies his boys
and strikes his wife
with blows made of loud noise
blasting from every phone
but nothing he says is surprising
because it’s all so mundane
and the thing he’s lacking
is any form of imagination
he turns it over and over
in that composting bin
one might euphemistically
call his brain
nope, it’s not top soil yet
keep trying

perfect for her

I wanted to be perfect for her. I suppose that was my first mistake. But all she did, it seemed like, was complain. Every complaint was like a slap in the face telling me that I was a failure at being perfect for her. Eventually I think i just gave up thinking that I could ever succeed. But the truth is that I had lost faith very early in the relationship. She left for a summer break and ended up not coming back, until eight months later. It was in those eight months that I lost hope that she was actually coming back and that she kept saying she was coming back that I lost faith that what she said was really what was going on. I stopped believing that she was speaking the truth, even if she believed what she was saying. So, when she finally came back eight months later, I didn’t heal from that loss of faith so that I could believe she was really there to be with me. That’s when I really failed her, because I failed to realize that I lost faith and needed to either heal that or we should have ended our relationship then. Everything after that point was just a rehearsal for the end, because I couldn’t believe that it was going to last no matter what she said or did.

hiding and hidden

her lies are prophylactic
to protect her devoted catholic
mother from the fertile truth
her daughter has tasted
my forbidden fruit
I’ve seen her naked and panting
I’m tired of hiding and being hidden
she kept me in the closet
now she’s done I’m the skeleton
she need never admit we did it
in secret as if I never existed
it sucks to be so temporary
and so easy to forget
I’ve been erased even replaced
I’m tired of hiding and being hidden

perfect fit

how could she not lie
when she didn’t see
any alternative
for the emptiness
now someone else’s
turn to give
but now she gets
I wasn’t a perfect fit
she has the eyes of a queen
for the size of things between
an agent provocateur
radically planted her feet in the air
in order to feel something down there
greater than ever before
yes it’s depressing
but I can’t sink further
I can’t go any deeper
can’t fill her with pleasure
because there’s nothing more
I gave everything
and I was found wanting
she was still found wanton
and I couldn’t
bridge the gap within
to be with me she stretched a bit
but now she’s stretched to the limit

something about groups

something about groups
and the layers they overlap
over lies and half truths
each new member
becomes a weaver
of tangled threats
and concealed regrets
each old member
trying to tie off knots
of how right they were
back where they linger
memories and fantasies
in woven wild patterns
that resurface and recur
as if what has past
will come around again
and that’s the whole truth
for sure

inventing scenarios

inventing scenarios in my mind
of things unseen and unheard
thinking they apply to me and her
she said goodbye for good reasons
yet I imagine that she reconsiders
leaving and forgives my failings

inventing scenarios in my mind
of things unseen and unheard
thinking of her sighs and moans
in bed with boys more handsome
and more skilled than I ever was
what makes me think they are boys?

inventing scenarios in my mind
of things unseen and unheard
thinking I see them and hear them

she sings

she lacks certain discretionary powers
like a bull in a china shop
she barrels in blindly
eyes and mouth wide open
with ears that do not hear

she sings without subtlety
but believes she’s helping others sing
she arrives at each new note

like an electron

jumping orbitals

but she believes she’s singing
when she’s really just
a cheap electric keyboard
that can’t hold two notes
or any sound in between
and that’s an apt metaphor
for what I really mean


Thing is I’ve got humble parts of me, but I’m also a really arrogant bastard too. And, I do plenty of self-sacrifice, but I can also be really selfish. I’m complex, by golly!

stand up

I definitely want to stand up. But, it’s always seemed so complicated to do. It does seem to be the work I’m on right now.


I’ve been hiding and hidden. My family pretty much knows, but hers didn’t ever. Her family didn’t know about her, nor about me … and there were lots of aspects of her life that I didn’t feel welcome in, too. I rarely got to visit her at work, and she didn’t have any pictures of me on her desk, I know. But, I also avoided putting anything on my website that suggested we were living together or that we were pagan, because her family might have read that stuff.

My family wouldn’t care really one way or the other. My mother thought it was amusing that she wouldn’t tell her mother about living with me. My mother’s done things that I don’t even dream of doing, so she’s hard to shock or surprise.

For me, I don’t talk about it much with my family because I don’t feel that close to them. I mean they are familiar, but it’s complicated to be open and revealed to them.

She pretty much outed me to one of my little brothers the night before we broke up without seeming to care if I minded or not, which I thought was a little strange given how tightly held she was for family. It didn’t really matter to me that she did, but it was a little surprising. But, I also talked to my mother about the spiral dances and the BCWC visioning, so she pretty much knows, if not all the details. She said, “So, is witchcamp a thing where only people who are witches go; or, is it a place where anyone comes?” And, I said, “Well, I’m sure anyone could come, but really the people that go to witchcamp aren’t just checking it out.” So, I didn’t really come out and say I was a witch, but she’s a pretty smart person and has to have by that point figured it out given all the stuff I talk about.

I once was in a discussion group about LGBT issues in grad school and when the others in that conversation said that I didn’t know what it was like to be in the closet I got to tell them about how she and I were secretly living together because she thought her mother would disown her if we were found out; that she would not be allowed to stay in contact with her siblings.

When I visited her in MN, we couldn’t kiss or hardly be alone in the same room together because of the charade and her mother. Of course, as it turns out, one of her younger sister is now openly living with her boyfriend, well, they are engaged, but not married.

It was always in the back of my mind that if she really thought we’d be together that she’d have been willing to tell her mom, but that she kept it secret in part because she didn’t think it would last; in spite of what she said to me about it. But, that’s pretending I can mind-read, and that’s not really a helpful way of thinking; then, or now.

pillar of strength

I have a hard time with my part in the the work, because I know that I wasn’t there in my relationship. I was so caught up in my own stuff and locked in quicksand that I couldn’t manage to escape. I really, really messed things up in that regard.

But, I look back and wonder if anything would have made a difference really. I know I didn’t imagine everything, it’s just that I couldn’t deal with it or respond in a healthy way. But, she kept telling me that my fears were not real, and yet, here I am. I know it took both of us to get here.

I was so looking forward to getting through the bankruptcy and all that so that I could spend years making it up to her. But, it took the break-up for me to start really working on the depression and anxiety, so if I honestly don’t know if I’d have started therapy for depression without having broken up.

She was a pillar of strength that I roped myself to in order to weather the storm. But, instead of steering out of the storm, I stayed in it … until I no longer had her to hold me up.

I look back at some of the things I’ve done and just can’t believe how bizarre they seem to me now. So many things that I should have been aware where unhealthy. I mean, I knew better, but couldn’t change my behaviour.

But, after the break-up, a few days after when I started to work the depression angle for real, it seemed like everything changed for me. It was like I suddenly had clarity on things that didn’t make sense before. It was wild how different things were.

But, when it comes down to it: I failed to do my part of the work in the relationship and I have to accept responsibility for the consequences of that, even if I want to wail and moan that it’s not fair I ended up where I am.