Saturday, April 4, 2015

3/30 2015

Bael or Baal.

He appeareth in divers shapes,
sometimes like a Cat,
sometimes like a Toad,
and sometimes like a Man,
and sometimes all these forms at once.
He speaketh hoarsely.

In the Dictionaire Infernal, he is first
The King of the East, three headed
a sad, crowned head,
a goggle-eyed frog
a sweet-faced domestic cat,
conjoined in an amorphous body
a mock trinity
perched atop skittering spider legs.

Once god in Canaan, Baal-Hadad
lord of thunderstorms and the marriage bed.
Once title, meaning “master,
owner, keeper, husband”

Baal-Hamon, god of the fire
of the doomed city of Carthage
whence came Aeneas, his father on his back
and toppled the queen down to hell
from whence came Hannibal,
and shook the gates of Rome
of which St Augustine, says
To Carthage I came
where sang all around me...
a cauldron of unholy loves

Ba'al Ze'bul
lord of the high place
of the lofty dwelling
(of flies, and pestilence)
(of the contract, of the covenant)

He is the toppled king,
the bad dad,
the usurped prince.
The kingdom of rebellion,
of insurrection,
of stone circles
and the bones of pigs.

In the chalked circle,
on a basement floor we called him,
we fatherless boys.
We dared him, we prodded
And he came, to glower in the dark
at the names in circles,
from the dark of the sump-pump well
from the black cat's head,
the charcoal'ed gate
left his smear on the stones,
red wax and rotten luck,
a whiff of bad chemistry.

now my son knocks on his door
and thinks he sees something past the candlelight
that squats, that pretends to obey
a lord of flies, of lies

I throw salt over my shoulder, for luck
get thee behind me
at the end of each shift, 
I cap the bottles against vinegar flies
scrub sugar from the rails
clean drains and floor
charms against corruption.

Come home to the dark house
where I am master, keeper,
owner, husband.

To be a father is to be a devil,
to be the villain in someone's story.
to be a god that falls, again and again.

Still to come when you are conjured.

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