No Worms on my Hook
There are no worms on my hook
poetry
For a Colour Blind Man
A colour blind man walked with me
He and She
She is quietly becoming nothing
III. Life Piled on Life
So many nests to build
IV. Genurgy
...in bekeening was our bird, dunkeling the interface
V. Matrix to Patrix
In a twilight alder grove, where heirs of the forest priests
VI. Fiach Hugh
Feach an Fiach! the Royal Brigand, pterodactyl
VII. Let Them Eat Corn
While She of the Triple Tiara, mother of Bran's race.
VIII. Bierth
From morning star to rise of moon she mouthed
IX. Parlezvous
And the scholarly woman said of Royal Bleheris
Pages
Current Issue: No. 301
