Hello Horror has released its Halloween 2013 issue, filled with zombies, death, afterbirth, dark poetry, a tale of Walt Whitman, and my own little story, Remembering Tommy, and much, much more. It’s a true Halloween treat. grab some cider, cocoa, or what-have-you, curl up next to a fire, and enjoy the read. Hello Horror
Tag: poems
Knowing Sylvia Plath
I am surprised you have survived until now. Sleeping pills in the medicine cabinet. Father’s gun in the closet. Razor on the sink. Cold steel burns. No tears, only blood. I will never know love. Your parents will delight in one less disappointment when you are laid to rest. Rest? And you still think sleep…
The Troll Bridge
the clatter of skateboard wheels, the crunch of tussling in autumn leaves, laughter at intimate jokes, lines from movies and books, dreams spun spider web thin, abandoned, collecting dust, yet sparkling in the right slant of light these memories, we shared, now mine alone I horde, an angry troll under the bridge that others dare…
the sleeper
all that is real is what I imagined, lost in a world of dreams where my soul is full of love and love is my passion drifting and floating on an endless sea of vision stirring and softly breathing in a night of endless prisons all that I feel is only imagined here in my…
For(e)Fathers
Eye blinking at suddenly light The misery of an early sage No shame to be earnestly contrite. How can we claim all that’s right? Gather sheets from history’s page Eye blinking in sudden light Built on shoulders bent by blight The riptide of pent up rage No shame to be earnestly contrite. Earlier still, death…
closer than they appear
I watch you watch life through the rear view mirror not knowing what you’ve seen until it has passed and only then a backward reflection I watch you watch us fading into the distance looking passed our future never knowing I was left behind, lost in your blind spot I watch you leave and know…
Dust on My Head
You collect your pretty, pretty things on the shelf for everyone to see. Caveat emptor! Had I known then, what I know now, the person I would be.
The Second Calling
The Second Calling I Do you know why I want to believe in ghosts? The night you died, the phone broke through our wailing. I answered a screen filled with zeros to echoes of silence. II As they wheeled you away, I kissed your forehead, the cold radiating through me like winter glass my frostbit…
To Matt
your image recedes, like a silhouette beneath dark waters the presence known by the points of light left in its wake, the way phosphorescent algae bursts to life as you swim. You cut through darkness with brilliance that hovers and shimmers long after you have glided beyond. Yet when I close my eyes you are…
Five elegies (elegy 5: the victim)
bound by blood red ribbons that had held her hair, a cloak of black engulfs her head— blinding her eyes, stifling her pleas as she awaits the next touch of his cold blade. She feels only her naked skin and open wounds, cold and hot, but has lost the ability to feel her body in…
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