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I wish I could tell you
how all those years
while pining for a ghost
I hung my skin inside a garden
and dabbled in necromancy.

In the secret enclaves
Beneath the gibbous moon
I called on powers, faceless gods
poured libation, burned a sacrifice
dribbling blood onto the earth.

admist the dust, out leapt
my imp of the perverse
the secret perfidy of my soul
ran into the world, wrapped in my skin
while I sat in my garden and
watched the news
waiting for my ghost.

What I attempted is nothing new.
All human ambition
Return to deeds considered lost:
The history of their heroes
The science of fairy tales-
their years and smooth skin
spent for private myths.

------
The conscious shape reality.


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Comments

The following comments are for "A Sort of Necromancy"
by Furius

soul and sorcery
love this for the last stanza, captures human truth with fierce intensity.

( Posted by: AuldMiseryGuts [Member] On: August 3, 2007 )

A Sort of Necromancy
That first stanza is what does it for me, completely drawing me into this personal spellwork of private pain. Excellent reading.

( Posted by: TheRealKarmaTseringLhamo [Member] On: August 4, 2007 )





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