Monday, April 27, 2015

15/30 2015

BELETH.--The Thirteenth Spirit is called Beleth (or Bileth, or Bilet). He is a mighty King and terrible. He rideth on a pale horse with trumpets and other kinds of musical instruments playing before him. He is very furious at his first appearance, that is, while the Exorcist layeth his courage; for to do this he must hold a Hazel Wand in his hand, striking it out towards the South and East Quarters, make a triangle, △, without the Circle, and then command him into it by the Bonds and Charges of Spirits as hereafter followeth. And if he doth not enter into the triangle, △, at your threats, rehearse the Bonds and Charms before him, and then he will yield Obedience and come into it, and do what he is commanded by the Exorcist. Yet he must receive him courteously because he is a Great King, and do homage unto him, as the Kings and Princes do that attend upon him. And thou must have always a Silver Ring on the middle finger of the left hand held against thy face, 1 as they do yet before AMAYMON. This Great King Beleth causeth all the love that may be, both of Men and of Women, until the Master Exorcist hath had his desire fulfilled. He is of the Order of Powers, and he governeth 85 Legions of Spirits. His Noble Seal is this, which is to be worn before thee at working.

“Who is she that looketh forth as the morning,
fair as the moon, clear as the sun,
and terrible as an army with banners?”
Solomon 6:10

Which is to say my love is sleeping,
do not wake her,
who carries our sweet and sticky wolves
on her back, through grey days
and the world, ever burning,
bottles ghosts and graveyard dirt.

The hungry gather at our table,
leave stronger,
our orphans, our family
crayon a shipwreck, a whale
a flight of birds

you feed the world your sugar
lay hands on the broken
bid the dead speak and
they sing through you.

O shipwreck siren,
swimming now through the half light
of our blanket-covered windows,
o witch who flies up the chimney
with the smoke, o love, my love
my blood-wife, my breath

wreathe me in your hair, your hips
let our broken tangle together,
a bone fire, a burning ground
a bright and sweet obscenity
that death cannot undo.

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