West Virginia is Wild

A Love Song to the State

J. D. Carlston
2 min readOct 3, 2023

after some indescribable sense of time
where i might have been invisible
or might have been an Amazonian Wild Thing
who called upon the golden horn of Dionysus and raised high the candy apple thyrsus spear

i woke up again one morning
far away from home and also home
felt my feet land
in the soggy soft green grass

i found myself in West Virginia
as the Sun, Ra-Horakhty,
started peeking over and through the trees like the green man
in the wild Appalachians

Horus of the Two Horizons
riding his battle barge
emerging victorious from the underworld
in his eternal wrestle with Apophis

the Aries super moon was setting
settling in bed with his mistress,
Aphrodite was restless
dreaming of her return to Tartarus

All of them
The Old Gods of the Deep Abyss
The Ancient Ones
were having a conference in the sky

looking upon listening to speaking from
i shook and shivered, weeping in reverence
being here now Being alive and embodied
it feels good, being known like that within the expanse

we chat a bit, Orion, creator of the gods
the Atman, and I
They were watching
keeping tabs all this time

reminding me to trust what happens
as feelings leapt uncontained from the body
Like a live wire sputtering on the ground
someone heard and made sure i wasn’t cold

I smiled and they left me to my deep moment with the divine
within the borderlands between night and day
grounding me more fully
as i reached toward the sky

my feet were wet and my soul was raining
even though the heavens were so clear
the body took over and plunged quick
directly into the cool lake remembering

leaving my cloak, shed like a skin, on the sand
returning Dmuzi to hell, like Ishtar before her sister in ceremony
the seasons change, the stars fade, the moon sets
and the sun is just the sun in the sky


Hymn To Dionysus

O blessed are they who, happy in heart,
Knows the initiation rites of the gods,
Purifies their life and Joins their soul to the cult,
Dancing on the mountains, with holy purifications
Celebrating the Bacchic rituals.
O blessed are they who dutifully observe
The mysteries of the Great Mother, Kybele.
Shaking high the thyrsus spear
Crowned atop with ivy
This Living Earth flows with milk,
This Living Earth flows with wine,
This Living Earth flows with the nectar of the bees.
The Bacchic One, graced with the golden horn, calls us nigh.



J. D. Carlston

Human hacking the boundaries of experience. Mixing Poetry & Engineering. Making hay wending wyrd. Twitter:@jdcarlston, IG:@r0zm4ddr, (they)