The skies are our seas now, with no grasp of Earth that we canna plunder. Shudder in your bed ye landlubbers! You call us pirates, but we are ghosts, ghouls, bodysnatchers, aliens.
I cried to the moon goddess, Nyx, as the night began to wane.
“Goddess can you hear me?
The night is cold, and I need a guide —
One who will fill the path with light and power.”
A Bountiful Silence enables the reader to become deeply involved with Muro’s poetry to the point where, regardless of the trials of their day, the vibrant intensity of his words helps them to focus on the beauty around them. God knows we need that right now!
Once a year we cheer this fear and get our fill, each chill a thrill. We’re children still down deep inside where we must hide from guts and gore galore.
Hello again Autumn. I thought it was you.When I opened the windows like I always doThe curtains went wild, dancing into the room.Arms sprouting goosebumps, I […]