Carved flickering monstrous faces, magic
light bends trees with molten sneers,
street bobs with pumpkin globes,
channel markers to guide the dread.
Wind carries little goblins and cats over
houses wreathed with whispering leaves
that tremble by warm blind windows,
deaf to last gurgling cries for help.
The night is measured by small eyes
sometimes fierce as dragons, now small
and frightened by someone too big,
perhaps wearing a death’s head mask.
Streets are squalls of pirates, princesses,
vampires and witches, sudden silences of
tossed, crumbling leaves kicking on a slick
black vinyl street, rain wet, lightning lit.
Sitting behind the wheel of your car,
peering out, is that house OK? Knock on the door.
I’d feel safer if they had a jack o’ lantern
on this gothic verandah. Is anyone home?
A Killer And A Scholar
He had a spider web tattoo on his elbow,
a holograph of an eye on his lapel,
his complexion was smooth and uneven,
a killer and a scholar, you could tell.
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