July 2012

Monthly Archive

poem30 Jul 2012 06:02 pm

I’m from Oz, by Abigale Louise LeCavalier

Sad really,
watching the way
this world works,
when I’m from another planet
altogether.

These “humans”
don’t have the humanity
I carry
in the locket
around
my neck.

Heartbreaking,
mad-hatting
broken fingered
degenerate dope-fiending
bottom feeders.

The lot of them.

All my alien friends think so;
“dirty”
is the word used most often,
not always meaning dirt.

Still,
the nachos here are good,
and the oceans are a lovely
shade of green,
or is it blue?

It would just be nicer
without all these “people”
around.

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poem23 Jul 2012 05:52 pm

Familiar By Ash Krafton

The crow is my own. He tilts his head toward my whispering
I whisper, why? Not for shame that others might hear
but so the other crows should not
for a woman can only be master to one crow at a time.
He claws his way along the branch
one scaly scrape at a time and clucks deep in his throat
like sand over gravel, the words a tale of a long road.
Others, far off in the corn field, taunting
raucous cries blackened eyes onyx lies–
I know them for what they are
and so does he. A twist of his head
he swings his black beak toward me
a hook, a foil, a condemnation
I nod, relishing the pain.
Master to one and hunted by all
I press my palm against the window screen
soon, nothing will separate us.
Tonight, we’ll dine in hell and sweep the field clean.
The heavy steps in the hall fix my breath in my throat
no need to turn around, to see what’s there.
On a breath I whisper away my secret pieces
he, the vessel of my escape
My crow leaps in a sudden sweep of wing and sails away,
the scent of his feathers a balm to a soon-broken soul.

reflected in his shiny gaze
I, the lark within my cage
his raucous cries
the fledgling dies
a murder of crows, a sea of rage

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poem16 Jul 2012 05:30 pm

The Slain, by Alexa Seidel

Softly
or else, he wakes
and crushes you with his giant’s hands
and licks the pulp you’ll then become
from his dirty palms

He has not always been like this
not always so tall, so big
so gigantic
or so savage

once upon a time
he was like you
all daggers and sword
and a hero’s tongue
blazing like the sun

but no more.
His hero’s shadow lies dead
buried under a stone
and this vile-breathed giant
is all that remains

Softly now
or else he wakes…
up the looming cave into the darkness!
your sword is drawn already, good;
always straight for the heart
as you have done so many times before

there was no doubt that you would win against
this shadowless monster
was there, Hero?
and when you leave with one more slaying to your name
don’t forget to take your shadow with you,
Hero, giant among men…

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poem09 Jul 2012 05:27 pm

Trouble in Golem Town, By Deborah Walker

It was quiet in Golem Town.
Clay feet treading along the
soundless, circular, mud pathways,
plodding patiently towards the end of the days.
Faces stretched tight into happy grimaces,
Each night, re-writing the words of their
lives along the hum of the static-fresh TV.
Quiet in Golem Town, until the fancy girl
came with her pinching fingers grabbing
scripts from gawping, gaping mouths.
Lightening in her brain instead of simple silt.
Smiling, rewriting their rhythmic respectable rules.
See the clay men fighting,
slow fists, brother against brother,
for the honour of rubbing their mud hands
against her white dress.
See their black glass eyes, smashed. 
Gems make a pretty necklace for a fancy girl
with dirty wings.
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