Premonitions
The plover plodded along
the damp, gripping sand
eager to reach the pool
where the blue-green flies
were mating before the tide turned
and the foamy waves rolled back in.
He was so intent on his brunch
that he missed the thunderous approach
of the coal-black mastiff as she bounded
over the dune and charged headlong
across his path out to the wine-dark sea,
nearly trampling him beneath her massive paws.
The tiny bird shrunk in on himself
and waited for the ferocious beast to pass,
then scampered off before the slim-ankled
pursuing maid crested the dune too.
The Persian girl’s hair was wild and loose,
dark as a starless night, a striking contrast
to her skin, pale and smooth as the moon’s curve.
The girl’s tiny frame was contained
by a gauzy slip, and her feet bare
as the day she’d come into the world.
Her eyes were strangers to life’s sorrows,
and her gleeful laugh made
that morning on the beach
golden and paradisiacal.
Finally fair Arachne caught up
with her hound who had stopped
to munch on some rock-clinging snails,
staining her mouth a rich, royal purple.
“What trouble have you gotten into now?”
Arachne cried with gentle exasperation,
falling to her knees as she used her linen gown
to wipe clean the bitch’s maw.
The dog licked her face in return
and Arachne wrapped her dear companion
in a loving embrace, and did not let go
until the strong, commanding voice
of her brother called her back to awareness.
He stood upon the beachhead,
tall and devilishly handsome,
his lean body honed through endless hoplite drills
and face enshadowed by the Sun overhead.
A cold chill went through her
that had nothing to do
with the morning’s playful breezes
which tugged at her hair,
trying to keep her from going to him.
Or perhaps it did.
Foreshadowing
Before marching East
to lay siege Ctesiphon,
the shining Sassanid capital,
Emperor Julian visited
the hero-shrine and oracle
of swift-footed Achilles
to learn how best he should
proceed, and Thetis’ son,
Lord of the White Rocks
said, simply: “Don’t.”
Performing Ecstasies
She is standing in lacey black panties and collar,
with cuffs around her wrists and ankles
and welts crisscrossing her back,
breasts, and thighs. I set the bundle of
(mostly) dethorned rose stems aside
and check her wetness to determine
how the session went. Exceptionally well,
her traitorous cunt tells me. I unfasten her
and unzip my jeans, letting my half-erect
cock spill free. Without having to say anything
she drops to her knees and takes me into
her warm and welcoming mouth,
demonstrating how well-trained she is.
There’s a dark storm coming
The Armenian bookseller Neshan Krekorian
was topside talking French with the friends
he’d made on this voyage across the vast
cold sea in the famously unsinkable ocean-liner
when a terrible sound shook him to his core.
It wasn’t an iceberg collision but a seismic blast
and fire and metal shrieking and splintering
into deadly spiralling shards that the men
witnessed. The three then ran to the other side
of the observatory deck in time to see
Perun retrieve his mighty double-axe
and take aim at the octopus-headed
denizen of the deep that was stalking
towards Greenland to smash open the second Seal.
“Be gone from here,” Strength of the Oak roared,
“And get thee back whence thou came, to thy foul
and polluted stygian abode. The time is not yet
come for thy kind to overrun the Earth – and when
that day arrives, I will drive thee back then too!”
Last Night I Dreamt That Somebody Loved Morrissey
I walk into the public restroom
by the park’s fenced in tennis court
and start scanning the new graffiti
for strange messages and omens.
There is nothing,
at least nothing meaningful.
Just a jumble of gibberish
and poorly rendered Leftist symbols.
However, in the far right corner,
under a broken light
lies the naked, battered body
of a drunk and filthy midget.
Someone has really worked him over,
probably one of the Dutch kids
freebasing by the monkey bars.
(Or Loki. Always blame Loki
is a popular hashtag for a reason.)
I think he’s dead at first,
and start to back out
before anyone sees me,
but then he moves,
makes weird animal noises,
lifts a stubby leg and farts.
I’m torn. On the one hand, I have to piss.
But I don’t want to get rabies,
on my other hand or anywhere else.
So I compromise and do my business
in the sink then get the fuck out of there.
Damn, the city’s getting really gritty.
Maybe it’s time to consider moving.