Demon Lover (poem)
It’s the season’s first frost tonight. / He’s never seen a more perfect you…
It’s the season’s first frost tonight. / He’s never seen a more perfect you…
loopy on / wolfsbane / and organ / meat…
old farmhouse, long abandoned, / rotting and vine-devoured…
When this world floats dead, / not a microbe left to twitch…
Swamp Thing rises: / the water tastes of oil and plastic…
The sky will be strangely blank / without cross-hatched contrails…
never / discovered repeatedly found…
Conscientiously / the funeral home robots…
Lacking a body, they buried his empty chair…
We Are Among Us Incubi and succubiprowl dance clubs, country clubs,book clubs, churches.They tempt us notwith groin or breast or tonguebut with tiny mirrorsthe size of a thumb,from which we peek out at ourselveswith eyes amazed and in love.Who can resist their own regard?We follow, heedless of the yearsof rueful reflections to come. — Thomas…