I heard many cries. But I couldn’t a single person see. Though the cries were so close. Before I could ask about this, Dante stopped, and bent his ear East. Then we heard a sound, not groan but melody, as of a Japanese flute – piping from so very far away.
Tag Archives: J Christian Lawrence
Anger’s Slough
Now our boat’s journey across the slough, or swamp, had become very bumpy, and I thought that perhaps some rocks our path obstructed. But looking down taught the truth: Our boat bounced along shields, swords, bullets, wings, bursting flak, fishhooks, beartraps, all the weapons of man, and worst of all, men and women, of all kinds, warring in the water.
Sonnet III
In aspen woods there is a sacred space,
Which by the Bones I think the Crow had roost,
And there I took my craft: needle, thread, and lace,
And sewed Love’s idol. But not Cupid I’produced,
A Game of Change
As soon as he took it, I was in real trouble. As soon as he took it, there appeared in my hand a large and heavy bag of change – quarters, nickels, pennies, dimes, and other ancient coins – so heavy my shoulders slumped forward, and strained I was to keep my head up.
Nativity
This trough, or manger, was itself the grave…
Black Coffee with Jesse James
We’d hid ourselves in the sagebrush. They covered the plain like silver hills. They covered our black-garbed bodies. Jesse James, and Frank James, and me myself. We were watching the road, and we’d been watching the road for some hours four. We were waiting for the Man we meant to rob.
The Time Travelling Poet
I think the author a rather heart-broken Time Traveler, who intentionally scatters his/her verses among the timeline, as Orlando upon the Arden trees, with an object of wooing not a rosy Paramour, but rather, that rarest of all things, an Audience.
Limbo Philosophers
We moved up through the ward of the castle and into the keep. There was a fine and shady garden in its midst. Where men and women were arranged about, lounging on the green, with faces somber and voices quiet – sad and longing in soft cold light.
The Phantom Train of Marshall Pass
An Amerikan Ghost Story – All Amerika is a haunted ground. Said that Miner man that sat alone in the corner of the open-air car. Why did he sit out there in the cold of the October night? His breath, steaming in lantern light, showed me he was there, told me he was talking. IContinue reading “The Phantom Train of Marshall Pass”
The Necessity of Journey
The people were everywhere slumped on the ground. I could bear it no longer. I stooped and asked one of the men – who was very plain and dull – what he’d done. He only sighed. I asked another, a woman – also unremarkable – and again I heard no word.
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