Purge all wasting from my shell, that tidal, I may over swell, the cage of stone, the plane of night; in vacuum dark past crystals slight, that I may find the wretched core, of ordained decline and boundless hoar; the primal vector; cosm's root; and there enthroned, reign absolute.
by Gale Acuff I'll be dead before you know it, before I know it anyway and maybe then or I mean afterward I won't know it at all, ditto death, I'll be alive some -how and maybe waiting for another life-to-come, maybe another after that, but all I get at church is that we're all in… Continue reading Lot Less
by Carl Scharwath Translucent and awake Lost in broad daylight. The sun will vanish Flickering, unseeing. Blurring at the edges Darkening, hesitant And shinning curious. The light evanesces In a trace of sadness. For how long Will a stranger stop In a different light As the end announced. Looking for landmarks Talking to himself At… Continue reading Countdown to Darkness
In sound and fury you delight, sovereign of vast gulf of night. Thy gelid wrath in umbral flow, vitiate both high and low.
Thrilling cut, through meekness, strike, to fracture earth and skin alike. Malformed, craven, sickly clique, upon them horrors, savage wreak; til blood is strewn across the stars, precursor to their fate once ours.
by Carl Scharwath Two children plaster forms A decorum of the 1950’s Embellishment, quietly grace The family road trip. Baseball cards on the floor Gum under the seat A façade of happiness As billboards swoop by. Telephone wires, a dizzying array of surrealistic lines crossing the clouds and pointing the way. Last chance gas stations, diners with… Continue reading 1959
His tome cast to plunge and fade to subtle worth In precious fragments faint, he paused to glean, Then clear, what lucid phantom rendered forth Of the deep blue imager’s stilling sheen.
Continued from §.03 The duo cautiously and slowly made passage through the cloying, hilly wood and passed into a narrow clearing where the land dipped into a long, sparsely covered dale through which ran a thin, babbling brook. To the south, a well-trod path was observable, which stretched from the edge of the stream into… Continue reading Beyond The Nightingale Floor (§.04)
Hraban Amsler came to the end of the forest path and continued apace. The sparse, charming wood thickening swiftly before him. Ochre and gold. Colors the harbingers of Fall. He knew the route well and yet felt as if he'd taken a wrong turning. The feeling came unbidden into his mind, though the man knew… Continue reading Ochre Sepulchre