i dream in paper
walls thin of shadow
under a pastel moon
hang barbed of wire
set singing on wind
these long cold of night
scatter you pink
scatter you wine
down by the riverside
steal heart my bone
folded pale of pale
i dream in paper
under a pastel moon
i dream in paper
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i dream in paper
Door
[Originally posted on sceandugenga.com, January 14, 2021]
“I wouldn’t open that door, Vern,” Larry, holding up a hand in the general direction of the door but not looking up from his calculations written hastily on a yellow legal pad. “My guess the reason that those yahoos can’t be found is that they messed up this” — he pointed to a glyph on the frame around the door — “was supposed to be the inverted form. Chances are, they ended up right in the lap of Nyarlathotep instead of in Kadath itself.”
He shook his head at the revelation. “Poor bastards had no business messing with this kind of higher math.”
Note: I am taking a short break from posting new material and am tossing out a few older pieces as explained here and here. Thanks for your continuing support.
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Door
Moon
[Originally posted on sceadugenga.com, September 8, 2020]
She painted the sky with stars, hands aglow with the dust of aeons.
“It’s the best medium for art, really,” she insisted, though the Raven didn’t need convincing. He’d played a bit with light himself after it burned him black. Dangerous, absolutely. But there was nothing quite like stardust for conveying vast, open space, nothing that came close.
He nodded and winked while deciding what the next trick he might play on her brother, Wolf.
She returned the wink. “Here’s an idea that might help…” she started.
Note: I am taking a short break from posting new material and am tossing out a few older pieces as explained here and here. Thanks for your continuing support.
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Moon
Silver
[originally posted on sceadugenga.com, October 18, 2020]
Lucas heard the feral dogs before he saw them. They were whining in frustration, growling and intermittently barking as if doing all of these things would somehow get their quarry to acquiesce and come out from whatever hidey-hole they were in and subject themselves to being made dinner. Even pigeons, largely lacking a sense of self-preservation even now, when there were no people to cater to lazy feeding habits by tossing out breadcrumbs, wouldn’t succumb to such tactics. Yet, the dogs carried on barking, whining and growling in their denial of “things as they are”.
Lucas hadn’t had a very high opinion of dogs before the fall of civilization and this, he felt, was a perfect example of why he needn’t bother to change his opinion to be more generous in his opinion of them.
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Silver
painted hearts
[originally posted on sceadugenga.com, October 24, 2020]
statues in the winter garden
crying stone tears
the memory of summerland
painted on their heartsNote: I am taking a short break from posting new material and am tossing out a few older pieces as explained here and here. Thanks for your continuing support.
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painted hearts
tattoo
[originally posted on sceadugenga.com, October 19, 2020]
the october country
is where all the sad
middle-aged men go —
wondering just
which journey brought
them to this place
wearing a teardrop frozen,
tattooed in the corner of
their eyeNote: I am taking a short break from posting new material and am tossing out a few older pieces as explained here and here. Thanks for your continuing support.
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tattoo
Albert Camus quote
Life continues, and some mornings, weary of the noise, discouraged by the prospect of the interminable work to keep after, sickened also by the madness of the world that leaps at you from the newspaper, finally convinced that I will not be equal to it and that I will disappoint everyone — all I want to do is sit down and wait for evening. This is what I feel like, and sometimes I yield to it.
— Albert Camus, “Letter to P.B.” in Lyrical and Critical Essays (1970)
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Albert Camus quote
flower angst
[originally posted on sceadugenga.com, September 1, 2020]
9mm hip check
the window voyeur
stutter-shifts to street talking
street walking
prey seeking looks away
jazzy mop
hip hop
hollow-tip sway
coffee calls
shifting walls
dancing on razor's edge
on broken glass and
checks his hip again
shuffle home
close the world
carving words in skinNote: I am taking a short break from posting new material and am tossing out a few older pieces as explained here and here. Thanks for your continuing support.
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flower angst
of velvet and lace
[originally posted on sceadugenga.com, September 7, 2020]
death rattle leaves
shuffle underfoot
a touch of the
samhain season &
the japanese whispers
of a secret oktoberNote: I am taking a short break from posting new material and am tossing out a few older pieces as explained here and here. Thanks for your continuing support.
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of velvet and lace
words
[originally posted on sceadugenga.com on August 29, 2020;
modified September 1, 2026]denise, with black & sick-green
painted nails, rat's nest siouxsie hair
hefted each of her knit long sleeves
showed me her arms, each
etched with words:
"MAGGOT"
"WHORE"
"TRAMP"
"GROTESQUE"
in block letters, thinking
to scare me away
"i'm ugly, on medication &
i cut myself.
see? doesn't that scare you?"
expecting me to make excuses
as to why i had to leave
i smiled sadly,
not sure how to tell her
i'd share her pain,
if only she'd let me,
having carried the burden
of my own
she drifted away before i might reply,
an ophelia in the weedsNote: I am taking a short break from posting new material and am tossing out a few older pieces as explained here and here. Thanks for your continuing support.
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words