Things that are Dark [Poetic Mythos]



[Four Poems]

Things that are Dark

Things that are dark, dark things
in the night bellow and sigh—.
Things that are dark, dark things,
light will not mix with their eyes.

On top of cliffs, they whisper,
within the forest deep, they slurp
(casting off skin from dead tissue):
flying over shadowy graves—,
chasing toads, back to brooks.

They hover—ebb within, salty air,
chanting with the wind’s echoes;
searching for a void—victims,
to imprint their deadly whims.

Things that are dark, dark things,

I do not know their name (s)

they weave their webs in silence

and have no blood, in their face.

At Ghoul’s Early Twilight
[Or, ‘crying of the gulls’]

‘Twas empty, the salty sky, at earliest twilight. Quiet, was their flight over sea and bog. Far off, far off a flood of noises oozed in the dark. Throbbing noises, sounds with howls. Weathered skulls, breasts bare, ghouls crowned with dark, a dark mist—emanating from the undergrowth within; all waiting, waiting for the passing of the seagulls again; waiting, just waiting with bitten-lips.

The seagulls flew low, low by the amorous reptiles—and then passed the refulgent ghouls, all were looking up, up, like stemmed lit-foliage, lost in the dark green-sea; like fire bugs: looking up, up: up into the shadowy eyes of early twilight—as the gulls, gulls flew low, low: low with lamp-lit-eyes, low they flew through the sky; too low this time.

“Ah! tho knowith fate seats a carcass at early-twilight,” whispered the Master Ghoul to his Horde: then his tongue slurped out, out like a reptilian beast—ripping a gull from the sky to his feet; its mate, torn asunder. Flying in circles in wonder, “What’s amiss?” she cried, cried, with salty-eyes, looking into the eerie twilight, into the shadowy shrubbery, “what’s wrong, wrong?” she sighed, sighed—heavily, as she flew high, high, and higher; listening to the muffled sounds of kicking feet, in wonder.

The Ghost Eater
[Picture on front of book]

Its skin—dark, scabbing
tightly stretched across its bones,
a frost-bitten soul.

‘Listen!’ the ghouls are hissing.
‘Comes the ghost-eater!’ [They cry.]
Their final danger….

The Eyes of Tikal
[Ghostly Mayan eyes]

Tikal, I saw your serpent stones
Resting upon Mayan bones
Of warriors long ago—

It is said:
All met with violent deaths—.
Scornful faces where they rest
Harsh reality, upon their breasts;
Now, ghostly-eyes, among the dead.

#450 [1/11/2005] Things that are Dark
#452 [1/12/2005] At Ghoul’s Early Twilight
#453 [1/13/2005] The Ghost Eater
#454 [1/14/2005] The Eyes of Tikal