Sharper than any
two-edged sword,
a vorpal song of snicker-snack,
whistles past the graveyard tonight.

We all fall down.

Pack a bag and
come out to play.
Bones and bobbins,
leap into the fray.
Glistening, ghoulish, giggling away.

We all fall down.

Everywhere the merry
go trotting
into a fiendish field
for the rotting.
Frolicking, frolicking,
all go a-rollicking.

We all fall down.


Three Haiku

Quiet in the wood.
An ancient voice lies sleeping.
Waiting. Silent. Still.

Out from Babylon,
a voice in the wilderness
carves deep a new way.

In the frozen land
once awash with light and hope,
a small spark bursts forth.