He was in love, deep, romantic love.
She was standoffish, aloof, above,
no need for pointless ideas thereof.
It was forbidden, like fox and dove.
His clay a gritty earthy mixture.
Hers a sweet creamy marble picture
of comfort, a permanent fixture.
His secret love a proscribed stricture.
So he sat at her feet each long day
writing the love words he could not say.
He greatly feared from her side to stray
lest someone come and take her away.
He searched for the same magic by night
that brought him to life and gave him sight.
Hoping that her stone wings would take flight
and sweep them from this piteous plight.
I carry vials in a pack on my back
containing the remnants of my past
desiccated into dust
pulverized into powder
At the side of the rutted road I stop
at intervals as I aimlessly wander
Carefully choosing one, mixing the contents
with muddy water from puddles, drops of blood
I prick from the tips of my tender fingers
creating clay I attempt to sculpt and mold
into something more than before
A life I was not allowed to live
A golem of a me that will never be
A form pleasing to your finicky eyes
that favor petite perfection
blind to the beauty that resides beyond
that time cannot touch
transcending the transient physical
She cracks and crumbles in my hands
before I can complete her
as I do not know the name of God
He has never cared to know mine
Truth and death in art
but a letter apart
Ghosts, Hosts’ with the mostest
In the House of the dead, Ghost's roam their home they once lived before becoming spirits.
Crickets serenaded near their catacomb; Tree's creek buried deep in loam from the breeze.
Serving Cores light and blue cheese balls to Fairies visiting from the mores.
A Burmese python chasing mice on the splintering wooden floor.
Gargoyle's crash through a trap door causing an uproar as witches with big sores riding brooms zoom down the fireplace.
Unicorns give chase to Gryphon wearing lace around their chins.
A Golem and an Ogre sit quietly talking to one another giving off a stomach-churning odor.
Centaurs fought a banshee shrieking so loudly cracked a marble column.
Gnomes decided to make this place their home with the phoenix in the attic away from the combated Leprechauns living near their garden dome.
The host Ghosts bring out the last of the wine and served pickled swine having a fun time their orbs twinkling like disco balls down the halls.
2/13/2021
sponsor Julia Ward
unholy earth, dark with stein
unformed loam at birth;
a worded child of mud,
fingernail skinned blacklack eyes
peek out of a ball of wet slam,
a groundling that waves like a black branch
across the sleeping fields,
see a shadow under the cold grass,
near in sight under a crust of frost