*EldritchCabal
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- Deviant since Nov 12, 2006, 8:47 PM
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Blackeyed SusanSmoke whistles from the west through Jack Pine and Black-Gum, fed by fire that jumped from the hair of Blackeyed Susan.Blackeyed Susan
She ate her child, it's told, carved up with an ivory-handled dirk and washed down raw with cider. No truth to that, but damned if witch hazel will burn or float.
She took her Autumn lover in a sorghum shack 'til the purple-orange and yellow flames raised blisters and they howled in their twined, rot-jute coupling.
All of Shiawasee County clanged to their brass-bell holler of pain and love as it passed over the heads of deer, t
in Open on 1/4/07
-JAN- Twilight's Siblingbone-garden, lambent - bearing yields already in decay; liminal visibility He prowls through the in-between losing movements, falling to the dark ----- cross-eyed bastard produce Bastet tumbled the shadow-king precocious man-eater -- dream visions ghosting behind the iris ----- contoured shade umbra, covering stone like Letters spell out infinity striped certainty decomposing in the sun .-JAN- Twilight's Sibling
in Open on 1/4/07
-JAN- Old Ken BrayIt worries me, when I see her gaze, when I see her jog like that, for nowhy. Perhaps she tricks herself, as I do some nights-JAN- Old Ken Bray
when I see her as two cats reflected in the kitchen window.
A trick of the light, of course. The double glazing we had put in, it does that.
When I buried her...
When I buried her, I cried. I'm too old for shit like this.
This afternoon, my wife gave a yelp while washing up. Some dumb bird,
a crow or raven she said, had bashed
into the window hard enough to leave a spiders' web of cracks in the top left corner. No trace o
in Open on 1/3/07
-JAN- The Tapestry's Return“Sisters, come quick!” the old crone screeched, her rheumy eyes wide as she stared at the ethereal tapestry that hung on the wall of her dusty sewing room.-JAN- The Tapestry's Return
Her two younger sisters rushed to the old woman’s side, expecting that she’d hurt herself, or come across some other disaster.
What they saw was hardly a disaster.
More like a miracle.
“I don’t believe it,” said the middle sister, her voice flat with rejection of hope.
“I do,” said the youngest, her youth inclining her to belief in the impossible; although admittedly, belief in Santa Claus required no great leap of faith for
in General Fiction on 12/31/06
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