by Lewis Turco
"I'd rather you avoid nightmares–though your fiction is welcome." Miriam Kotzin, Editor.
I like to feed my nightmares haythorn straw
That makes their motile lips writhe in disdain
And bridle at the thought of eating claw-
Mottled strands of vine that cause them pain.
They then become steeds of another color
That strain to taint my dreams with the vivid stain
Of sanguinary mood and bloody horror
That give me leave to delve into the dark
Niches and corners of death's corridor
Where wolfhounds howl and flying foxes bark
Along the fictive trail that leads to where
The story wakes and is willing to embark
Upon the ship of words that conjures awe
And makes the thudding heart stick in one's craw.