Lilith reads from the pages
of her Moons in the Desert,
and the meeting of the Morrigan…
So Here’s the Thing,
every existential and absurdist
fuckboy I know, is a Capricorn
Rising. These are the Kings
of Swords, and they just can’t seem
to keep themSelves a-Way
from me. My Lilith smolders
there with them. I am
of their ascendance, yet simultaneously
my Sun smokes in their 3rd houses,
burning up the inter-personal
dynamics they’ve been making
home in, for far too long.
I rise from their ashes, as Pluto
demolishes what’s left of them.
We square off, and the tension is why
you want to fuck, or fight me.
I am the pussing pimple on the nose
of the dead white men you worship.
Yes, I know, I allure,
yet irritate you, because I AM
down with the notion
Time is illusory, and all reality is
subjective, but also, I live
in Space, where I let Miracles be
commonplace. Because here’s the other
thing: God can be the place
where two Voids meet, and you can
make meaning, if you want it
to be. And why the fuck not? It’s fun
to set things in motion, and let them
start to speak. It has nothing to do
with Death. I do not fear her.
We are all already dead, but
is it so bad to still let Life
mean something? There is Nothing
shameful about Loving
into the Void,
until it births Meaning.
I am a new breed of human,
baby. I’ve already fucked
my daemons, and they no longer
want to play with me.
The Triple Goddess
On the eve before the new
Moon, I wandered below
the Stars, to find my Way
around a Fire, with 2
AFAB. Priestess, Empress,
and I, the Crone. "I knew you would
come stealth," the Empress told.
I asked them how they Will to
focus, and I gazed into Black
Mirror. I listened, and when
needed, spoke, and showed them
how their wheels are spoked, and
moving with the Times. We dreamed
by plucking the strings of the
possibilities they hold. "Will
you be able to find your Way
back home?" the Priestess asked.
I told her how, once I would
sing to the Beasts, walking
through Home-Forest, without
a Light. And the Empress
laughed with me. She burst
into the song she sings to Bear,
when passing through her country.
I smiled, turning back into the Night.
"LOL. UR SO CUTE. You actually
think you get to choose some
kind of escape from the Sky Dude's
fumes, just becuz you can predict
my comings?" Sky Dad mocks me.
I sometimes forget my birth
chart is ruled by Saturn,
but by Uranus too. I am
always answering to the Electric
Sky King. And I forget
when he stations Rx or Direct,
initiation comes knocking.
"ARE YOU happy with Nothing?
Tiny, little, female being?"
As I prepare to hunker
down for Saturn's sake,
the Creepy Uncle comes back
to take away what I left
at my campsite, in my place.
It's really Nothing, just
my stove, and knives, and forks,
and spices, and plates, and
everything I use to eat.
I'm not exactly surprised
that the transit found me.
When he stations, I tend to
hit a tree. This is the Way
it goes with me. No Matter where
I hide, the Stars will find me.
The lesson lately tends to be,
"Lili, do not cling." So
I don't fight it, but
I bought the Empress tortilla chips,
so I text her, and she zips quick,
towing the Priestess, and pissed
enough for the both of us, fellow
Aries that she is. I remind her
how I was just saying, yesterday,
it is best not to leave open
opportunities, for plundering.
"Cross your eyes, and dot
your tree! And Lili, try not to be
so attached to your campsite!" I am
learning the Ways in which
I am still possessive of places,
and things. But the self-titled
"Vagina Vigilantes" want justice
for me. They come bearing
headlamps, and dogs, without me
even asking. I trail on about Sky
Daddy, and how it’s really my own
blunder, as the Empress crusades,
a walk-about. The Priestess
listens to me Crone on, musing
my Way out of disappointment
as I pronounce, “It is a test
in Abundance.” But the Empress
pouts. I tell them I’m going back
out, accepting the blow because no Way
am I leaving Here tomorrow. “Please
text me when you’re home!”
The Empress calls out, meaning
when I've parked my truck
back in the Desert. And I realize,
I’ve been indoctrinated
into this little pack
of mad vaginas. “I will!”
I shout. Yes,
in Love, there is
I may be the Desert Faerie
General, but the Empress is
the Mayor. Parked near
the entrance, she knows All
the comings and goings
of this Here town. The thief
who took my stuff is still
lurking; coming and going
to see if I've left, wondering
if it is safe for him to
return and resume his poaching.
She literally tracks his tires.
She has pictures of his license
plate; She the huntress,
he now hunted. Today, she stopped
him, in the road, with her body
to ask him stern, but gentle
questions, and to let him
know she is watching. As we are
walking, she checks on a solitary
AFAB's campsite, who I have not
met yet, but of course the Sheriff
Empress has. I appreciate her,
as a joke slips out of my mouth
-the Priestess and I, kicking Dust,
like doughnut-munching deputies,
"We should write ANDY on her shoe,"
I muse, quietly, and we all three, die
of giggles. The Morrigan on the loose.