The vampire’s neck
Is long
Like giraffe
Says the naive
Character
As the rabbit ears
Relieve the static
Don’t panic it’s only
A movie
And there is great fire
In the
Tavern
Where the ale spills
Over the leather shoes
This serves only to
Amuse
The stranger
Whose fangs
Fill the screen
It’s like a giraffe
That he chews
Between your head and the world
Swirled some strange reality
Till you tapped pills
Against the desk
The drill of blinding light
The incoming
Then the drumming
Waking on the border
Eyelids bleed with morning
And the quarter consciousness
Finds its rest
Outside disorder
He explained in his broken english
Le shoe
Le shoe rouge
He was new to having feet
Le shoe
Le shoe rouge
He asked them to repeat
Le shoe
Le shoe rouge
They all refused
He took le bus
Le bus vite
👞
April 6
The thing in the walls continues to tease me with its frantic chatter, its slow slither.
April 7
The thing has wounded me after it burst out from a picture of an idyllic scene. I write with a chunk out of the side of my skull through which my very brain pulses as though infected.
April 8
I’ve placed the picture…back over…the hole in the wall but the thing remains somewhere in this room. The…cursed…thing.
April 9
I struggle. This…thing…it bears some resemblance to my uncle Rochford. I caught it in…my shattered mirror contraption. I ache. Tremors. I try to lure it…with flashes of light.
April 10
This it for me. It wraps around. It is uncle. Same rube accent. It wants every last suffering. The shard. If only closer. Wait now. It dances and sings. What horror. My pencil I could use…
Memorial fluttered at the side
Of the highway
Two screaming loud trucks go by
The divided line rises into
Gathering dark like a wraith
I daresay, old chap
Your limb there,
Let’s tuck it back
Were you not a scholar of
Ancient civilizations
No need to bare your
Dentures
I’m having great patience
But let’s not so close
The foul air
Is astir
With your students
It would be imprudent
To breathe in that charnel breath
Egads, you’ve taken a slab
Right out of me, to think
You seemed so charming
Monocle and all
Through the spectacles and spyglass
And window across the lake and in
The padre’s unblinded bay
He sits slumped and bored his cheeks
Patchy grey
He begins picking his ear
And the voyeur perks up
This is what these 23 hours were for
Rowing past stars
The boat dipped and rose
How unlikely it was
The hook on the line
Caught a quick shine
And there it lies
No dim to its blaze
Oh there you are
As if no time has passed at all
Mike sees a meteor
Almost half a ball
Could you get out that far
The fever of the night
Theater of a fall
Mike asked me about the galaxy
And the track he sees
There’s no immediate recall
Stern was the overall
Impression
Workman’s clothes
Broomlike stache
Did he ever laugh
Did tears ever ooze out
Like viscera was getting loose
Was that a wink in the fade
Of the past’s brocade