We climb the stars
Make honey in our hearts

Mad as a jackrabbit
We leap into dark holes

Walk among winged creatures
Quiver in our skins

And swear that we can fly
Feather-light on love alone

I am the one in suit made of nigh
The person with the blood behind the axe
The signs you'd see beneath the sky
The words you hear in a moment of wild
I became thoughts you never wish you had
The lips with kisses for every child
A calm you feel when in your mind
A spark of blast at leisure time
Like a love that comes through a while
I am the dancer whose clothes are rags
I sail but only at the center of your minds
My crew are made of wood and skulls full of thoughts
I creeps into the fawnest minds
I etch unto the tauntless nous
I am  lurking behind their every words
I heal but a day with me hurts
I crawl into your heart and live only in your head
I am those voices you hear when In your bed
The breeze that tilts the window head
Image flashes with shadows unclear
I am creatures in the dark whom thoughts you hear
The one that increase with your slightest fear
I am the illusion!!!.

4 am
And the fog blankets the lake.
Critters wake
Crickets chirp
And fawns are alert.
On the surface,
A turtle's head
Emerges from the stillness.
The smooth reflection of
Moonlight is disrupted
As four wild youths
Run to the water.
This is where we belong.

enchanting is the word
stone formations with hypnotic mystery
formations that only the mother can create
mother earth will nourish all elements she produces
hiding past creatures in ornamental rock with windswept colors
colors so exposed to the surrounding landscape
what do you see

Brian Hill - 2020 # 120

Vampires
by Michael R. Burch

Vampires are such fragile creatures;
we fear the dark, but the light destroys them . . .
sunlight, or a stake, or a cross—such common things.
Still, late at night, when the bat-like vampire sings,
we heed his voice.

Centuries have taught us:
in shadows danger lurks for those who stray,
and there the vampire bares his yellow fangs
and feels the ancient soul-tormenting pangs.
He has no choice.

We are his prey, plump and fragrant,
and if we pray to avoid him, he prays to find us,
prays to some despotic hooded God
whose benediction is the humid blood
he lusts to taste.

Published by Monumental Moments (Eye Scry Publications), Weirdbook, Gothic Fairy and Raiders’ Digest. Keywords/Tags: vampires, fragile, creatures, stake, cross, dark, darkness, light, bat, bat-like, shadows, fangs, pangs, prey, blood, lust, lusts, red, lips, night, voice, sings, darkness, evil, incarnate, soul, hell, tormented, pale, eyes