Superstitious Currents

Conceived with the autumn
A viper at his feet
with eyes like the keyholes
of magic city gates
A crooked child of specters
A sign from above
Who saw the stars on gravestones
and sung the sky in blood

Born into the cauldron of the witch
superstitious currents pull me under
to deathward spirit spells of ghost-land rites
in a coven craft of mysteries and wonder
Incarnated over and over

With stories that raised all the hairs on their heads
He saw saints in the stairways
and spoke with the dead
They said he was a cursed child
Possessed by unclean forms
With angels at his bedside and devils at his door