The county fair is looking for Little Misses and Misters for The Pageant! In a land where child sex crimes run rampant. Then, on the weekend, they bask in sacrament, all dressed in white in some revivalist tent
Dead Tree Song
Singed thricefold:
times of peace, and
once, of war.
Bugs as scales replaced
strong bark,
thus confidence was stripped.
Most children are frightened
and the ones that visit
do so only to crack,
fracture, destroy what limbs
gravity kindly left
The ants carry away
dead slivers
while the rest wait
for fungal company
Moonlight shoots through
serrated gaps of dead life:
a spotlight on the dead tree's
song.
Untitled
Flickering existence Million years for two pence A fire for a wire the money's in the bank Sing solipsist! Lest you forget the ring of melody sang under a blood red moon. Then when will the world start? But, more importantly, when will it cease to exist?
Child Rearing
The hallow seemed strained for life cobwebs splinter and disintegrate all nests have since unwoven and scattered the den beneath is soiled and stilted -with no resistance- a womb to make death's acquaintance
Rained so hard
Rained so hard the garden flooded and floated away downstream in a gutter waltz with tin cans and dead cats
Pagan Poetry 