Slinky, butterball, autumn moon
Hangs like a fat tit 'cross a dusky sky.
Old Sol, swollen sick, sinks he down
From too much noon.
Mama Luna calls the kiddies,
"Come to coven now!
Dance the dance!
And chant the chants!
Romance the plants
Dianas and Pans,
Sing to Me, for I am Full."
And I want to be dancing with witches tonight!
And I ache in an aerie of artifice.
Big belly burning balefires.
Tight tailored suit stinging like a skin full of piss-ants.
Power tie: a loose noose on a floosed goose.
Spectacles conceal my moonstruck glower
Thumbs, fumbling for a dumbeq,
Find a lap top, a lunch bag, a Post It, Scotch Tape.
My feet itch and I must not dance!
My throat burns and I must not chant!
My wood swells and I must not...
Hands on the table, boy! Mustn't touch!
Black leather oxfords reflect the pantied, dry cowan snatch of an MBA
And I want to be dancing with witches tonight!
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Venus of Wyllendorf, witchy wild women,
Riven with spellcraft and deep, earthy calls
Knowing and wanting and holy and holed.
Virgins to bride and mother to ride and crones to intrigue
By the hoarde by the league.
All rapture and willing and bright flashing sighs
And wild manes of fire and sweet, sweaty thighs
To enwrap and engulf and enmesh and enthuse,
With the hair and the flesh of my goaty old thews! --
I want to be dancing with witches tonight!
Lipses to bite'
And nipses to taunt'
And thatches to kiss'
And Esbats to miss!
Ooooohhhh! I want to be dancing with witches tonight!
Alone among mortals, I hear the Moons calling,
And I bite my lips to bleeding
Alive in these dead mountains of commerce.
Nina Totenberg considers all things for me.
Geeks grin at software jokes I told yesterday,
Content that their air is conditioned,
And promise the venture guys will come through --
Would I like to eat again at Chili's tonight?
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