Tag Archives: alien abduction

A Thorn in Her Flesh

Rebekah stood before the black wire fence,

looking out onto a sky, a whole entire world,

a deep and cold blue in the late evening.

The wind was cool on her bare arms,

standing there in thin t-shirt and jeans,

not anticipating the cool of the night in the desert.

The fence was behind the hotel, to keep out

the coyotes and predators, those also on two feet.

She watched the horizon, expecting something, fearing it.

She and her friend, a trusted male friend, very rare,

sat in a loud sports bar. She nursed a weak and pale beer.

He watched her over his burger. Wanting to say something.

She smiled for him, took a sip of beer, tried to watch a game.

The noise and lights and motion and thumping music was

making her jittery, only worsening her anxiety and dread.

They were headed to Mt Shasta. To Northern California.

Was it foolish to go there? To test these dreams and fears?

She wanted out of this loud bar. The fearful quiet was better.

She lay on her bed, the hotel room had two, and though sleepless

was still and in a dreaded, alien peace, without her phone and it’s

music and videos and baubles, that soothed the thorn in her flesh.

The outline of the streetlight outside made shapes of husks and demons,

and she feared that she was mad and she feared the demons were real,

and she feared that nothing would ever let her escape these things.

Her friend slept easy. Maybe as a man he was much better and choking

and stamping down all these black and corrosive feelings, pretending

it was all alright. The shadows shifted. The outline reached for her.

Nothing would ever set her free.

A Memory On A Pink Morning

The highway above the city, too near the sky,

and angel or a demon came near, touched my face,

emissary of an unknowable God.

A cool summer, cannon fire on the border,

drones watching and reading faces, tea leaves,

this emissary came close, alkaline taste on my eyes.

Stars distant but still my home, light and fire cutting

the words of a God who will not speak for himself

on my skin, scars are the truest holy writ.

And I lie afterwards, looking up at the starry sky

that is giving way to pink morning, like revelation

gives way to punching a clock and perfunctory kisses.

The thing, good or evil or just a girl, came to me

and visions more felt than known lingers, like the

warmth of it touching my face, a memory on a pink morning.


Bethany, in black knitted beanie, blue and worn ski jacket,
tight jeans, and black boots she’s had since high school

carries the memories of her lover, the weight of tin angel wings
and the soft, tender dreams that never came to be

as she walks in the cold, snow covered trail to the clearing
where The Devil From The Sky comes down for her.


5 hours, already morning, the night over, no sleep.
An ache in her, something taken, something precious.

The room undisturbed, her mind as dense and fogged
as her window now that the snow has come, blizzard tattered out.

A face, ashen with black, almond eyes, a voice unnerving in it’s calm.
A finger cold that brought sleep as it touched her cheek. She was a child, then.


She dreams of a child at night, her restless soul, The Devil From The Sky’s
ashen skin and black almond eyes. In the dream, she knows he can see her.

Repulsed and filled with love, she reaches out to him, but the distance is
that between man and god, woman and man, mother and child.

He laughs, floating in mid-air, untouched by humanity and the earth,
but the raw and naked madness that led her to marry a man who was death.


At the clearing now, sunset fading away to the pinprick bleeding of stars.
The brightest light cuts the skin the deepest, takes what it wants without a thought.

Nothing left here in this world. Her husband dead. The house burning. Madness screaming.
The Devil From The Sky may as well burn her eyes out and toss her aside.

And like the mockery of an angel, his light and ship comes down, silent, with teeth.
Nowhere left and soon enough he’ll put her away from her mind and life, that hateful, changeling child.

Angel? Demon?

I wake up again in the back seat.
It’s almost dawn. I came about midnight.

There’s a fading cold in my head.
My heart thuds. My blood thick.

The same song plays on the radio.
Do you know angel from demon?

Her face, bone white, sharp, cruel.
Giant dark almond eyes. See it all.

The anesthetic lingering of dreams.
I am mute and on autopilot going back.

Her face, her serpent kisses, her lies.
I am father to another, a new kind of child.

No work until tonight, until the dark.
Windows covered. No light to burn me.

She is in my dreams, just as real there.
Our daughter grows her wings to cut me.

Many daughters, to take down ruling men.
Pretty faces with venom in their serpent kisses.

She Calls My Name II

The road to the sky, mountains empty and dark, the wind bleeding.

               No moon and the stars are still, the veil of the sky to the earth torn.

               Music full of sorrow and resignation at the coming doom of innocence.

               Soothes me as I drove, not wanting to come, but having no choices left.


               On the sidewalk of the pull off, silence is it’s own terror, it’s own howl.

               The dot of blue light, unmoving, far off but there’s no distance with her.

               Inside my mind and wrapped in the skin of a bitter lover lost to youth.

               Angel’s wings draw tears that the feeds to the demons she made from me.


               On the grass the soul is drawn into the sky, into the wastes of paradise.

               She called my name, a golden sunbeam from softly noon, not tender at all.

               Angel’s wings tear the skin and close the unseen eye, light is a darker path.

               A hand to hold because two around your throat, and she chokes off true love.


               Another face, truer, as I know I was made broken numbers and holy damnation.

               I hold another’s face in my lost dreams, and bleeding memories white from cold.

               But She called my name, and the starlight kills all the chance at a darling triumph.

               She called my name, and hell pulled a true love, to give me to the cruelty of angels.



Queen of Stars

The sky is stars, only stars, only pinpricks of heaven.
Sitting on the steps of the trailer, watching them,
wishing for something I cannot name, cannot speak.
 A light shines brighter, a cross of light, cutting the dark.
My eyes lock into it, and the world falls away, and I
am somewhere far from this world.
 I wake up, well into morning, in my own bed, clear, clean.
Like a fog evaporated with the bright hot day, it all slips away.
But the model whose picture I hang on my wall,
 I notice an eerieness in her smile, a harshness to her beauty,
and a loss in my heart, where simple adoration had been,
an ache as cold as the depths of the galaxy.
 I lay down, close my eyes, and cold and dreams and passion
wash over my clean and clear heart, my untroubled grey eyes,
and a moment last forever, in a Queen’s Kiss.

A Girl Is Laughing In The Dark

The dark man, at the end of my bed.
The light that blinds me to the stars.
Up, up, into the sky, to be taken down.
The dark man, steals a piece of me.
A piece silver and shiny. I am cold now.

Cold, in August. Open window. No stars.
I shiver in my skin, ill fitting, useless.
The dark man faceless. It burns in mind.
A girl is laughing in the dark. She know all.
The sweat is blood. The tears are not coming.

 Drive to work. Sun up. Empty road. Mind static.
I will smile. I will laugh. I will tell jokes.
The day will be a mask on death and fear.
The girl is laughing out of sight. She does not love.
The dark man is faceless, but I see him in every smile.