New moon is full in its way.

Quite contrary is okay by me.

I agree with contrary,

it’s a matter of faith.

But the virgin thing is myth.

Maybe she wasn’t a looker

At least when people were looking.

Beauty is the beholder.

Watch me now.

Her secret is the snake.

She’s not crushing him.

He brung teacher an apple.

Maybe she’s going for a ride.

Going to the lake, baby.

Out to Mariout so pour the wine.

She is Isis, Queen of Heaven and

All the Saints. And, says St. Al,

Queen of Hell and all its Demons.

She’s got a crush on you, Ophion,

A big old kundalini crush.

He will bruise you upside the head.

He will feel your heel.

Let the seeds fight it out.

Watch her moonwalk.

That’s how it’s taught.

The queen of heaven is no man’s wife.

Prior to her there is no life.

Joe is just a joe—a beard with good papers.

There’s no sin on you girl.

Nude, on a lion’s back, there she stands.

Knocked up with God.

Blonde Venus. Full of Grace.

Bring it on. We will follow.

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