Saturday, November 21, 2009


Gargoyle ~ Michael Parkes

In dust
She tiptoes past the library
Where dictionaries decay
Words becoming silverfish

By night
In the throws of fever dreaming
She swallows up the town
And all its sleeping secrets

Blue clouds
Obscure the millions weeping
While tasting bitter regret
Her dreams ascend to grace
Afraid of waking monsters

By day
She walks the paving patterns
Tastes the heat haze rising
Vomits up the fragile night

In dust
Her footsteps break the seals
Of letters never delivered
To the mothers of dead children


the walking man said...


Jimmy Bastard said...

5 categories of excellence. Brilliantly linked.

James Higham said...

Are you feeling a bit depressed today, Pisces?

Pisces Iscariot said...

Walking Man: okay :)

Jimmy: fanx

James: I'm not a depressive, why do you ask?

Suzyhayze said...

I vomit night. Againandagainandagain.

Pisces Iscariot said...

Suzy: Now that is some confession :D

Moineau En France said...

pisces, i saw my life in this. reflects my most recent french poem... wish you read french. :>((

love the tightness of this. the sparceness and paring to the bone. she lives... xoxoxooxox

Pisces Iscariot said...

Laura: I can read some Dutch and a little German... :B

Harlequin said...

I was intrigued by the sense of time in this one, 24 hours and/or hundreds of years and also the sense of hush, haze and shimmer... at least that was my felt sense...

The Scrybe said...

Ah! So good.