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That eerie ringtone
means I don't dare ignore the
call of Cthulhu.

Freda's sister stabbed
her in the heart; now she's mad --
a Vodou smackdown!

Do you like this wine?
Robust, full-bodied, poisoned.
Enjoy while you can.

Forget "Ghost Riders."
Zombie cowboys are right here,
snacking on your horse.

Jekyll was surprised.
New revelations made him
want to run and Hyde.

Pity the Nazgul:
Having no face means no place
to wear funky shades.

Cherry blossoms drift,
reminding me of the smiles
of those I murdered.

Eddie the mummy
finally got married to
an Iron Maiden.

Some call it torture.
I call it research on what
destroys human minds.

My decaying love,
lend me your ear. I promise
I'll bring it right back.

NaPoWriMo, April 23, 2008: More horror-ku

It's a long story.


He knows your schedule,
every movement -- a stalker?
No, your lover's ghost.

Monster broods: Doctor
Frankenstein made him without
any fashion sense.

No wonder the Bride
is so angry at the world:
that's one bad hair day.

For sale: Black lagoon.
Comes with creature. Medical
plan not included.

In just seven days
I can make you a man, brags
the mad transvestite.

What's this potion do?
I dunno. It looks good... oops!
Gonna mutate now.

Buffy, you're missing
a letter. You're a Slayer,
not a Layer. Stop!

Harvard Law Review,
run by vampires? Did they turn
our Barackula?
... don't ask.

I'm sorry, darling!
My garlic breath's a turnoff
to my undead love.

Damn full moon again.
I need chocolate, and a run
with my pack-sisters.

Bury me not on
the lone prairie, where zombie
cowboys ride again.

Feeding hungry ghosts
and giant spiders -- will it save
me from Buddhist hell?

Whom to kill for lunch:
a fat-free jogger, or that
sweet chubby baby?

At the Carnaval
Noir, Madame Moriarty
tells your misfortune.

Can a hunchback find
true love with the Monkey King?
Next time on Oprah.

They call me a geek,
just because I eat the heads
off live coral snakes.

NaPoWriMo, April 21, 2008: Primary Prayer

I posted the last two in my journal, but I'm too damn lazy to go back and get them. This is on the eve of the Pennsylvania primary....


Primary Prayer

Shine, son, on me.
A mob, back on back.
Shun barbs, Mr. Mack;
snobs make sinus noises,
some anus crabs on and on --
be sane, be a man.
Use brain. Be no snore.
Shrink back? No.
Aren't You Hot? Acrostic for an Impending Birthday
for geekchick

Cherry blossoms vanish, as ephemeral
As the beginning of hot season is constant.
Tourists crowd the tops of escalators. Soon
Heat will shimmer from manhole covers.
You will be asked, Aren't you hot, wearing black?
So have your snappy answer ready --

Baby, I was born hot. I am heat itself.
Observe my catching fire at will like Jean Grey
Or some other mythic Marvel goddess.
This black skirt, my dear, is an elaborate
Shield that protects your tender eyes.

Ask the questioner: Aren't you some icy
Rock, sub-planetoid, spinning much too far from
Earth, in comparison to my incandescence?

Are you not, indeed, a very Pluto?
What a Mickey Mouse question, my poor sad man.
Encased in solar panels, I am quite my own
Sunlight, when your normal world goes dark.
Only by concealment do I not blind you.
My thighs are gentle prisms, my shoulders pure
Energy, like neon, but more noble.

NaPoWriMo, April 16, 2008: Post-Secret

Yesterday's stays in my own journal; an elegy, it feels weirdly more personal than today's.

Post-Secret

thank you anonymous young
man on the #16 bus
at the same time as me, every
mon. wed. and fri. in the morning,

you are, i assure
you, beautiful
in your close beard and ponytail of 'fro,
beautifuller still in your wire-rim
glasses, though i say no word
but admire you three times, strongly.
you make my commute that much lovelier,
like a fine and rare azalea

glimpsed, and i've posted this:
it is no longer secret. we have entered
an era in which secrecy is mocked,
fruitfully, by cards thick with art
stuck up on the web, while you, dear sir,

may never see this, but in an instant someone elses
fairly numerous will. so there.
that's what you get for being fine and rare.
Just Off the Highway
for Fran and Jessie

coyote poured crow a whiskey and said
what joke o gals will we play today?
ha! said crow, we will survive
ha! said raven, we will beautify
The Mermaid Figurehead

Bless all those who must drown
on dry land, miles

from the merest trickle
Bless the would-be pirate

months at sea, the saint

of circumstance, of the cat star
Bastet, I am less unlike you

than you suppose, bless me too
who would be human and embrace

more than the seven hundred waves
I Must Tell the Boy

I walk into the back yard of my childhood
house and from the prairie summer

sky plummets a distinctive bird.
I wish that it would dive closer

and it does, it is an owl, white
with dark markings like a Snowy, a heart-

face like a Barn, and great glaring
red eyes. I am not scared, but trying

to memorize its field marks, I must look
the species up in my book,

I must tell the boy. Waking,
I must tell the boy.
A Small One for a Big One

gold gold gold glitter across
the purple insides of my lids
and all the night

cars splashing puddles in ecstasy
is how good it is
is how good it is
to rock, surveying you

PS. dazzle me with your beard
again, i like that