Read Hallowed Ground Page 6

The evening shadows lengthen

  And crawl across the melting snow.

  Departing from our winter home

  We pass five dead deer in a row.

  GRAFFITI IN A MASSACHUSETS ASYLUM CELL

  Each night, my dreams are filled with creeping dread

  And I can scarcely move or breathe or think:

  I sense dimly as, in the ocean’s ink,

  Deathless horrors writhe in a watery bed.

  I alone know these things. All others fled.

  And so I know why the cruel stars wink,

  And why at night you can hear darkness blink,

  And for what purpose our scrabbling race was bred.

  They call me mad and lock me in this cell;

  The lunatics point in at me and jeer.

  But each night I hear tolling R’Lyeh’s sunken bell,

  Cause of mankind’s primal hidden fears.

  They will rise again, and bring with them Hell,

  Who have lain dead ten thousand years.

  THE SECOND COMING OF DAGON

  Bubbling and foaming in the pelagial deep,

  Ichthian dreams welter forth unhealthy,

  Drawing home the Innsmouth Taint.

  Cold stars align unblinking in a grim pavotte;

  Ten thousand years bear fruit at last.

  The slumberer shifts whale-like and fitful;

  Signs break forth pox-like upon the earth.

  Fishers haul in creaking nets, rejoicing—

  No messiah blesses this day’s catch,

  Only He-Who-Comes-Before,

  High priest of an ancient sacrament.

  As in a great salt-stained unbirthing

  The piscine faithful stride unto the sea:

  Evolution’s course reversed.

  And one foul book gives tidings

  Of Father Dagon and of drowned R’Lyeh.

  Now we shall see what dogs howl at in the dark.

  ASTROLOGY

  Birth and death and love

  Are tied to the stars above.

  Not, as you might think,

  With horoscopes written in ink.

  Rather, there’s a time

  Ordained for us, with no rhyme

  Or attempt at reason:

  Each life gets a season

  To flourish and to grow

  Before death lays it low.

  And that glorious sensation

  Of love is just a biological compulsion

  Deluding you before it’s too late

  To find a suitable mate

  With whom to pass on the torch to a new group

  Of idiots, who’ll restart the whole loop.

  THE ROOM IS BLUE BECAUSE IT IS

  The following section explains some of my thinking behind the various pieces in this collection. If you want to maintain an image of me as an intelligent, erudite sort of writer whom you can bring home to your mother, don’t read the following section. If you’re already aware that I’m a shallow hack with no artistic integrity, face front, true believer!