according to William James, there are laws in psychology. if
you form a picture in your mind of what you would like or wish,
and you hold that picture long enough, you produce what you
in this way monks in certain himalayan monasteries manifest
women out of thin air while balancing cups of steaming
gooseberry tea on their cocks.
i understand this now and all the laws of psychology.
and how my thoughts have been traveling beneath your skin.
sometimes you hear them in dreams or at dusk like the drip of a
faucet or the evening news. you cant rest at all, much less sleep.
of course, you might try to resist, but it's as hopeless as a
prayer, clinging to the impossible.
in a matter of minutes, you're lifted from the bed or couch
and out on the streets, your dress quivering in the wind like a
loose sail. strangers watch you go.
they don't know how it happens. a woman suddenly
following the darkened streets, perhaps even flying on wings.
nor do they understand the danger of it, and that it is i who
am to blame.
or how it feels to fly, the fear, the lack of control, that
sensation like new teeth cutting into the shoulder blades.
when you arrive, knocking on my door, there's always that
first moment when you might plummet from the air, when you
feel my thoughts wash over your body like a loving glance or a
and i know, for just an instant, you've become a mere figment
of my imagination, or a silhouette, lit by my mind. or my own
i even know what you fear. the day i will say to myself, this
woman is not all she's cracked up to be.
the day you'll think, this man is a real son of a witch. and the
first flicker of anger singes our skins.
that's always the beginning, the taste of bitterness and salt
when we first lick the surface of our tiny black hearts.
i enjoy the humor of this poem and its ability to produce a powerful message in a lite hearted way.
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Thread: #5 black magic