I just finished reading a rather entertaining book, and it reminded me of a word I had not heard in some time: goety. No doubt now I will have dozens of links from weird occult websites, wondering what spells I am about to write out. Or else sites from the holier side, adjuring me.
The fascinating thing to me, of course, is that so many things we see as different had the same root — the basics of mathematics, the principle of zero or the concept of bases, somehow becoming a root of alchemy and numerology. The very fact of writing became prosthetic memory and thence the fruit of the tree of knowledge. The ghosts and demons of the misunderstood world became elaborate and frankly silly rituals that led to the deaths of thousands. The act that we do everywhere around the world, of blogging, the child of a mysterious art that once was deemed powerful and dangerous.
Goety
When summoning demons, a grammar’s required,
A grimoire, a ponderous tome of desires.
Arsenic, candlelight, horsehair and fires,
Upside-down symbols and unholy choirs.
Read More “The Sunday Poem: Goety”