by Adam Walks Between Worlds 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 stingin 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! Mustnt touch!

Black leather oxfords reflect the pantied, dry cowan snatch of an MBA And I want to be dancing with witches tonight 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 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 Chilis tonight It is my will to lave the flesh of fellow barbarians and to feel their rut It is my will to ladle my belly big with my ancestors knowings It is my will to weave spells of spiders, stars, loam and jism It is my will to sing and chant and wail and howl and bay It is my will to hold men and women and children in these strong arms It is my will to fill and to be filled And your fajita at Chilis isnt going to do for me.

I burn, I burn, I burn, I burn, I want to be dancing with witches tonight

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