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Page 1 of 11939 · PDF PAGE 7
In my passionate pilgrimage, Love, for Love is the Will toward change. Love is a lust and a prayer, and the soul of its act as its word Is of them that were Two to make One, and to seal the Event with a Third. Oh, Love, Astarte sea-born, oh Star blue bright in the West, I invoke thee, thy priest in the shrine that is built of my blood in my breast! Since thou art in me and of me, since thou art the heart of my heart, The soul of my soul, nay, the skin of my skin, not a being apart, I am thou, I accept the intent, acquiesce in the nature implied…
1939 · PDF PAGE 6
… Astarte sea-born, how invoke her aright? I am free from the fire and the foam, I have conquered the dragons and doves; I have gotten me Love as the gold from the furnace that melted my loves. Love is not bound to the body, not sparse and adrift with the mind Not secret with soul, though the soul seem one and alone of its kind. The body is naught but a corpse, its growth but a name of decay, A delirious dream of sick godswhere the Shadow hath sway. Concocted of offal and mire, putrescent with cancer of breath, A knot that unravels to naught, a…
1939 · PDF PAGE 5
…us bathe and crown our hair And drink untempered wine! Let ever greater cups ensnare Our souls in traps divine. Soon calms the season of loves rage, And joy grows short of breath; Birth shoots a shaft, weighed down by age, That strikes the target, death. Then come, thou golden goblet brimmed With lust! Though all be vain, Theres hope for us, the lion-limbed, In hashish and cocaine. Though death should hale us by the scruff Of neck tos mouldy portal, To-night let us get drunk enough To know we are immortal!
1939 · PDF PAGE 11
…the effort to cease, I absolve the dead I from its Vow, I am wholly content to be dust, whether that be a mote or a star, To live and to love and to lust, acknowledge what seem for what are, Not to care what I am, if I be, whence I came, whither go, how I thrive, If my spirit be bound or be free, save as Nature contrive. What I am, that I am, tis enough. I am part of a glorious game. Am I cast for madness or love? I am cast to esteem them the same. Am I only a dream in the sleep of some butterfly? Phantom of fright Conceived, who knows how, or…