All that the light touches, yes, but I am king of the shadows too, the diplomat of darkness, underneath the heat of machine exhaust. King of dirt and feral cats, am I! Lord of Lands, the Concrete King!
Tag: Poetry
The Descendants
A boat carved of stone and ten figures aboard At the bow a stone bird holds up a drum holds it out above his head like a pilgrim might have once held out an amulet of protection against that good night
Villanelle
Why’d it have to end? My daughter asks, for how is she supposed to know – a flower isn’t beautiful because it lasts.
Playa Dust
There is an old god who lives in a dusty corner of America
By The Nightlight
Hush now, child and I’ll tell you a story, for long ago before the rain there was dust and rocks and nothing else upon the earth and the sun and the moon would look upon it and feel ashamed
Mindbreak
When I swim in the ocean I make sure to forget the blue whales
The Midden Heap
Even the ungodly neon Target sign, which glares through the gentle night like a radioactive stinkbug–
Entropy
One hundred thousand years ago the surface of the earth broke open. And out of this colossal crystalline trench, (for back then the earth was covered in pristine untouched quartz), out of this trench, flew with sticky newborn wings a little brown owl.
The Culling of the Impostor
And what a betrayal! The final enemy in this great quest stands before me and she is naked.
Fiona and the Howling Fart
Fiona Rudy was feeling moody in kindergarten class one day. Cuz Gracie Lane had all the trains and Fiona wanted to play
THE RABID RABBIT 