Four-line Stories






folk tale


Satyr Amerind hybrid union dance
shadowthrown in hive chambers of honey light
andromorphous scream in self-sacrifice, reflecting
a dream-visor removed quick for noticing chroma.




caravan


Wind driven, a memory dubbed gaels
licked catlike at our sails; prows cut
dream powered; below decks seven slept;
under in silence the chevron of orca led.




In Other Voids


Everything has its place in the shifting winds,
was said. All of it trapped in the focus of a
magnificent lens, being outer space itself that
curves dreaming souls across to star in other voids.




On Mount Drone


The spectrum: light from fractured dreams
a dream: a piece of carbon. Every sound:
a memory of its having been made, and every
sight: a dream of a time passed away.




gone


Sheaves fold on a sharp wind, slap against
poles as desperate, brief want ads to be
ripped away by an unseen howling whose
chilling message is lost to no one.