I'm under the spell of your dark eyes' gaze,
your gray shaggy hair and your feral smile.
I'd rip off your clothes with my sharp front teeth--
come to my lair, and stay awhile.
The dogs follow me, 'cause they know I'm in heat,
but it's you I want, and I'm on the prowl.
The electric current sends a siren call--
I know where you are. I can hear you HOWL.
I run in the night, through the crowded dark street.
I run to the rhythm of the pounding hearts' beat,
to the edge of the cliff, where my love and I will meet.

When the Lone Ranger has his finger on his gun's trigger, he constantly has to pull it.
When the moon is full, he hunts and kills werewolves, that's why he uses silver bullets.
He also uses silver bullets to stop outlaws from committing crimes.
But he uses those bullets to **** werewolves the majority of the time.
A werewolf smashed his way into an innocent man's house.
He tore him to pieces and was also going to **** his spouse.
The Lone Ranger saved her by putting a silver bullet right between the werewolf's eyes.
Whenever he encounters werewolves, he defeats them, each and every one of them dies.
A werewolf was about to attack Tonto and he would've ripped him apart.
But the Lone Ranger killed the werewolf by shooting him through the heart.
Silver was the Lone Ranger's horse until a werewolf ate him and he was also going to eat Scout.
But the Lone Ranger woke up in time to save Tonto's horse and he blew the werewolf's brains out.
Whenever a werewolf tangles with the Lone Ranger, his life comes to an end.
When the moon is full, the Lone Ranger kills werewolves with silver bullets and he always wins.

the sleeper...

riled in slumber
         her face fevered
     cussed about the terrain
                                     of a floral breeding
  bedding patterns and the print
                                        bunched in struggles
in smudges
                     an amateur trial with sisters makeup
     primal cosmetics
            make a mock
                    daubed
                                ceremony for slumber

dusty and museum are her dollworks
        an amphitheatre audience
                                 overlooming her berth
    flaunting the gallery shelves
                sustained expressionist menace
Roman eyes and Victorian ridicule
stuffed suffering with Ugly Duckling down
****** sawdust and your sullied label
they bray and they brawl
         and they sluice their gull gall
    a sick drizzle
       over the sleepers form

   from the exterior
  wild wails the weather
its being
     drubbing
  peers fragile
at the windowpane
a raid on this vulnerable sleeper
impounded in bedroom aloft
raised to meet the jet stream

she is fumbled in dreams...

  abraded adolescent swells
judder out figments
  a bleed of vandals
     siling her muted childhood
       parading the playground
          berating old
         once loved playthings
       adopting no sympathy
    adapting in favour
      of the wild riding will
        of the direful pre familiar

into the woods...

a ***** charmed breath
       dressed smartly as boy
stoppers her pathway
       insisting a gentleman's assistance
frustrates her recitations
      of grandmothers doting
           stern teachings
         like fragile pottery
            come to harm
         broken into teeth
the quick blood beating
       this nocturnal forest
     busy in heat
      bonding death
       to refract the hustling moon

a company of wolves
    fill out the clearing
not a spell too soon
their howls reverberate
             jeering
mocking their new glut
sifting followers
      from the raggle-taggle array of fools
the foolish dreamers
          rounded up
amongst them she stands
red dressed and nervous
one hand clasping
                  and sexing the other

fortified
a great jaw operates here
an excited irresponsible mastication
committed to this fairytale

...agitation in her sleep

Sun and moon, day and night,
Light and dark, good and evil.
They say God created everything
for a reason,
so what of the Devil?

I've heard stories,
of witches and werewolves.
But the Devil,
they say he walks among us,
living in the shadows,
and speaking in whispers.

They say God created everything
for a reason,
that He made man in His image,
so why did He put the Devil in me?

Werewolf

I’ll trek through the woods and find a wolf pack.
I’ve got a simple strategy for a quick attack.
I’ll **** their Alpha and feed them deer;
I’ll become the new Alpha and I’ll rule through fear.

I’ll lead my pack with my bow and arrow.
We’ll eat the moose’s liver and **** the bones’ marrow.
We’ll hunt together by the cold moonlight.
I’ll plot the course of the season by the stars of the night.

We'll eat the flesh of those who dare come near
in the dark frigid dawn of the early New Year.
I’ll hunt down stragglers and set their bodies burning;
it’s survival of the fittest in this wicked world’s turning.

My dogs will howl at the moon by the edge of the cliff;
they’ll be the rhythm section while I play my riff.
Don’t come near us, don’t try to follow:
Steer clear of my pack, or you’ll have no tomorrow.



The Retort

So, you’ve got some silver bullets in your automatic Glock.
I hate to give bad news, and this might be a shock:
But I’ll take your silver bullets—
I’ll wear one as a pendant.
As for the rest of you—
they’ll only find a remnant.

Mating Season

I shed my human form, to meet you in the night.
We tread into our lair, within a limestone secret cave.
No one knows the site, except the watching grey-black owl.
We circle and we nip, with loving tender bite.
I smell your musky scent and hear your throaty growl.

Alpha Alpha pair, there are only two of us.
I’m the queen and you’re my knight
(but with no shining armor bright).
Instead, a coat of grey and white.

And when our rendezvous is done
we’ll greet the others at  the cliff
and all howl in unison.

release me
strip down my skin
shed the timorous flesh
of humanity

release that
beast that lives
in the notsosecret heart
of hearts

release me
let go my womanflesh
let my teeth out
of their prison

release that
tearing ripping ancient
moon beast
of days past

she longs
to stretch her legs
test her teeth
be released

Hour by hour the moon continues to rise.
She's way too bright and he's as dark as night.
Oh what big lies you live.
Why are you both so deceiving?
Oh look how hard it is to forgive.
Where's your excuse for leaving?
Run away, get away before he swallows your sanity.
She's built her argument on vanity.
You found love in the darkest parts,
The place where you can't have a heart.
She built it on a dream and a delusion.
He grew out of that plot and that illusion.
She loved him true, the only love she ever knew.
In her safest hour on his dimmest day, all she wanted was for him to pay.
He meant no harm and she did no wrong.
We know they hurt and they're not strong.
Little red, my friend,
there is no need to pretend that you didn't know this would eventually end.
At least in fact, you're both still intact.
You're not the victim and you're not the villain.
Both born of moon and light, they would always fight.
Now the wolf and red are in separate beds.
Their story together is a memory.

tonight,
when the streetlights
go on well after dark
and the scintillating
moon illuminates
a painted mural on the
star filled night sky
behind the junkyard fence,
the skin stretches,
the blood boils,
the hair grows full,
the fingernails extend
and the human/werewolf
transformation is flourishing.
the blood soaked moon
looks good enough
to howl
under