Requiem for the trans dead, movement six

VI. Libera me

O Antinous the Liberator, deliver us.

Deliver the living from transphobia

and the trans dead from their fears.

Deliver the living from the fear of Eros

and the trans dead from their unrequited loves.

Deliver the living from the tyranny of gender roles

and the trans dead from the tyranny of the body.

Deliver the living and the dead alike from all evils

that would harm the body, that would assault

and deform the soul. O Antinous, liberate us!


May Panprosdexia free the minds of the living

and the souls of the trans dead.

May Panhyle free the bodies of the living

and the remains of the trans dead.

May Paneros free the hearts of the living

and the hearts of the trans dead.

May Pancrates burn the bonds of the living

and likewise of the trans dead.

May Paneris contest with all hatred among the living

and defend and protect the trans dead.

May Panprosdexia succor the living

and find all the trans dead, wherever they may be,

and lead them home to the light.


POEM: The marriage of opposites?

Let me not to the marriage of true minds–
“Oh, not that old thing again!” Paneris
snatches the book out of my hands
and throws it away. “And what’s this?
A cup? A ritual dagger?” They pick up
knife, cup, plate, wand, book, a stray kitten
and juggle the lot like Crowley’s Magician.
“The blade is to the serpent as the cup is
to the fox?” “–Paneris, stop being an asshole.”
Paneros folds eir arms. “You love my asshole,”
and Paneris fires the book, wand, plate, cup,
and knife at their lover, who catches them one
by one and puts them back on the altar, or
table, or a coffin where someone is about
to get sawn in two, possibly your humble
poet. The kitten stays with Paneris,
draped about their neck. “Do genitals matter?”
Paneros hands me a pen, a knife. “Where
does sex take place?” And a smartphone,
and a pillow. “Who gets to define gender?”
A cup of tea and a cookie.”What does it mean
to live happily ever after?” “Oh, don’t be pedantic,”
says Paneris, winding their arms and legs around
their lover. “It’s the eighteenth. Give me a kiss.”
“I’ll give you more than that–” The kitten lands
on its feet and I come out of the coffin in one piece.

POEM: For Panpsyche and Panhyle, their union

965287ebd106e0557b8fbc7efdf389c2The soul in the body and the body in the soul
The masculine within the feminine but
the feminine within the masculine
Transcending gender, transcending unity or disunity
The butterfly and the bull, the axe and the bow,
the sister and brother whose erotic union
is not transgression but consummation, All-Love:
Hail Panpsyche! Hail Panhyle! Hail Panpsyche and Panhyle!


POEM: The Blessing of the Tetrad++

This is a variation on my own Lorica of the Tetrad++. I offer this blessing for all people of color, all African-Americans, all Native Americans, all women, all sexual minorities, gay and lesbian and bisexual, queer and genderqueer, transgender and intersex, all people anywhere who are oppressed. You are Antinous’s people. You are the Tetrad’s people. You are my people.

May Panpsyche guard you with the eagle’s wings
and by ASKION bless your soul with freedom.
May Panprosdexia guard you with the raven’s cunning
and by KATASKION guide you through the dark places.
May Panhyle guard you with the bull’s determination
and by LIX bless your body with health and strength.
May Pancrates guard you with the lion’s roar
and by TETRAX burn away your fears.
May Paneros guard you with the serpent’s wisdom
and by DAMNAMENEUS heal your heart’s wounds.
May Paneris guard you with the fox’s swiftness
and by AISIA defend you in conflict and strife.
May Panpsyche and Panhyle protect your souls and bodies.
May Paneros and Paneris protect your hearts and minds
both in love and in strife.
May Pancrates all-powerfully protect you, and
may Panprosdexia bring you home to the light.


A new poem for Panprosdexia, on the sixth of the month

I cannot see, for my eyes are covered by the dark.
I cannot hear, for my ears are muffled by the dark.
I cannot smell, except for my own fear.
I cannot taste, except for my own death.

Reach out, says Panprosdexia, and take my hand.

A new poem for Paneris, on the fifth day of the month

It all comes down to this, doesn’t it,
Paneris: That you are neither male
nor female, neither god nor goddess,
not one thing or the other, but
anything when it pleases you, a fox,
a hen, a cloak, a mask, a naked body,
a sleeping child, a mischievous lover,
a provoker of strife, the devil’s advocate
where there is no devil, the prosecuting
attorney when we accuse ourselves,
all this and the one most beloved
of All-Love, the liberator of Eros:
Hail, Paneris! Liberator, challenger,
trickster, I praise and honor you.

Birth of Pancrates 2016: A prayer

Child of air and earth and water
Child of peace and truth and beauty
Child of eagle and bull and serpent
O fiery one, O most powerful, O leaping lion:
Hail, Pancrates!
On this day celebrating your birth
I breathe deep
and plant my feet wide
and feel the tides surging
I call on the height of the eagle
the steadfastness of the bull
the suppleness of the serpent
I open my mouth to speak
of peace and truth and beauty
and in your name I roar
I leap
I breathe fire