As you commune with the Televisionary Oracle

Visualize the Silk Furrow and the Jade Stalk

Root for the Fluttering Phoenix

and the Golden Bough Pray

to the Pearly Grove and the Justice Root

Exult in the Blooming Ha-Ha and the Starry Plough

Champion the Ambrosial Thicket and the Righteous Supplicant

Be curious about the Rumble Chamber and the Swooping Dabbler

Balance the Bombastic Lotus and the Tender Thunderbolt

Bear witness to the Chthonic Riddler and the Frisky Risker

Create sanctuary for the Rosy Manger and the Raunchy Weaver

Act crazy for the Honeyed Gateway and the Grateful Harvester

Look everywhere

for Quetzalcoatl's Gangplank and the Worshipful Pouncer

As far as the Goddess is concerned, beauty and truth fans, there's no such thing as heterosexuality. No such thing as homosexuality or bisexuality, for that matter. Even bestiality does not go far enough. Nor does the flower-boinking of the early Gnostics, or the sky copulations of the Essenes, or the fist-fucking of the holy ocean by the ancient Sapphic cults.

As far as the Goddess is concerned, there is only Pantheosexuality. Also known as Polymorphous Perverse Omnidirectional Goddess-Caressing. All else is a lie, an obscene limitation. You can only be in mad loving lust with ALL of Goddess, not some of Her. To be in love with some and not all of Her is to be in love with none of Her.

Therefore, we will now begin the ritual of the World Kiss. We will apply our tender loving lips and tongues to every quivering portion of the Goddess' outrageous joybody in this place. And we promise to keep uppermost in our emotions, with every smooch, a mood of demonic compassion, primordial sweetness, ironic sincerity, and blasphemous reverence. We will be always mindful that it's not enough simply to perform the outer gesture; we will aim to have heart-ons in all seven of our chakras.

Smacking our lips with a rat-a-tat of cartoon kisses, we glide over to the altar, which is built atop a giant old faux wood television. Here we do hereby kiss thee, candles and pomegranates and chrysanthemums. We press our warm lips against thee too, whooping crane feather and Venus of Willendorf figurine and silver bowl filled with good rich earth from the garden. Black knife, gold coin, and toy rubber unicorn, come hither: We wish to anoint thee with our love. Necklace of tiny dove skulls, chalice filled with dragon blood, sacred wand fashioned from the rod inside the toilet: As we bestow on thee our moist butterfly jiggles, we channel the pulse of our heart-ons into every luscious atom of the Goddess' sexy creaturehood.

But our Pantheosexual yearning does not end here. Onward! Towards new frontiers of kissability! Who or what offers itself up next to our osculatory worship? Djembe drum, thou strikes us as a pure embodiment of the Goddess' love of functional beauty. We pay homage to thee with flickering licks. Black flag, we smother thee with our blazing snuggles. Maypole with thy blue, red, yellow, and green ribbons, feel the fluttering graze of our undying devotion.

Though we've had erotic epiphanies while watching ruby-throated hummingbirds feeding from plum flowers, we've never enjoyed the shivering palpitations we feel now as we contemplate communion with the black carpet below us. As we swaddle thee with our yearning arms, dear carpet, we impregnate our shamanic intention deep into thy weave, deep into the lambs that sacrificed their wool for thee to live, deep into the hands that assembled thee.

At the foot of the altar, we slither our maws against The Woman's Encyclopedia of Myths and Secrets. We picture our righteous, tantrically sublimated kundalini, tinctured with heart medicine, spraying out the tops of our heads in a violet velvet cloud of blessing on every thought that was packed into thee, on the tree that died so that thy paper might live, on every ounce of ink shaped into thy magical words.

To the doorknob and the wall sockets and the light switch and the dead fly on the window sill, we pledge our undying adoration; and though we may later become separated in space, we will always remain joined in this exquisite embrace in eternity.

To the air itself, we send this message with our kisses: Since our particles and thy particles were ripped asunder at the Big Bang, we have fantasized obsessively of the rapturous reunion in which we now exult.

WE ARE THEE AND THEE ARE WE!

As a public service,

the Televisionary Oracle

reminds you of what Jesus said

in the gnostic Gospel of Thomas:

If you give birth to the genius within you,

it will free you.

If you do not give birth to the genius within you,

it will destroy you.