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Warned the garish sign
Surely a joke
But the bubble-throated giant
Loomed behind
Its eyes watery black boulders
That saw no earthly mate
Silly me stepping over the gate

“He didnt call em ghosts, he called em glob-you-ills
Said first one appeared like a singed marshmallow while he was woolgatherin and he eventually poked at it with his finger but it didnt move and it didnt go just hung there bout nose height seemed like they appeared whenever he was puttin his fuzzy thoughts together like on the can one bulbous one sat fat above line of his sniffer and he swung his arm got tangled up in his pants and fell he started gettin tired of em even though they seemed harmless when they was in a row big and proud starin up in dark tryin to sleep thats when he got in contact with me and i suggested fire one of the four elements because far as i know ghosts dont like fire but all we did was burn up his curtains and he had enough started seein that doctor who told him they were arty facts but far as i know his place was no dinosaur dig doctor told him to blink em away and get on with his business but now comes whole week i dont hear from him i goes up to his place it sits up on a hill all lonesome i get in the house and it so quiet i knew somethin was up i get a shiver down my tailbone up the stairs had to go no one at all around no signs a livin i see him halfway in halfway out first bedroom covered in puffy white and his face still hot and sizzlin not a breath left in him didnt call no author itees there aint no author tee on this matter.”

“I’se was walkin this path when a big creature pressed his stinking face into mine yes’m was no talkin’ just a swish a tail and a slow paw and he was gone yes’m I ain’t joshin he was upright like me and breath like a stink a polecat yes’m we’re right where it happens watch the wrap a trees jump like a monkey into our faces yes’m dont show yer scared oh no no no dont show yer scared…”

Smudged twilight
The painter’s thumb
Hedges daubed with dark

Out yonder
And while the stars
Blinked
He’d unspool the story
With shuffling feet
In the beginning
And for whom the bell rings
He dealt breath to the characters
And unflattering ends
He spat and he gargled
While the shoes moved
Tales to startle, stun
And amuse
One day by the lake,
On past the farm
He collapsed midway
A most foolish yarn

Hunger fades in monk
Images of plush cakes bouncing berries
Moved into edible trunk

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…