Goddesses and Ghosts

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Ghosts are fans of goddesses

and goddesses depend upon ghosts.

Gods don’t give a good goddamn

about the ectoplasmic clan:

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what are they but the senseless

leavings of a mortal life – frailty’s

substanceless detritus? Without

the powers of divinity, at best they’re

ineffectual and all but undetectable –

clusters of faint zeros: silly nothings, 

clouds in the vicinity. But goddesses 

are cannier than gods in this as in 

most other matters. Ghosts know how

to navigate dimensions which permit

more shifty back’s and forth’s: mistily

persisting as all quantum quark

and lepton spatters can, knowing how

to slip through seams of cosmoses’

infinity without another form of being

ever seeing where they are or where

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they’ve been. Goddesses have learned

from ghosts the trick of spinning quick 

new undermining schemes from this 

that keep the gods in line. Therefore

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goddesses have come to seem 

insidiously more mysterious, aligned 

and fine. Gods somehow know

they’re being left behind.

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