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This Queer Church

Spokes on a wheel we circle up wagons circled up when threatened elephants circle up when one is ailing–they back their water balloon bodies into the center, trunks facing out. They act as support beams for the one crying elephant broken, the one in the center who would die if she fell.

I did create a space like this.

I am.

Am creating.


We meet in the slender sliver of the new moon’s light. New moons mark beginnings. We sing and rotate around the seasons like spin the bottle. We break bread and break water and break the silences around what’s been broken.

We celebrate. Rejuvenate. We consensually kiss same-sex lips and make eye contact. Eye contact. There are always candles. There are usually feathers. Sometimes there are flowers.

This church is not a place of choking or burning or spurning the choices of magicians like Us. We hold hands a chain of daisies a chain of dandelions not weeds flowers medicinal.

We cast this Circle

in Perfect Love

and in

Perfect Trust.

Blessed Be.



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Poet and Tarot Reader, specializing in Water Cartography
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