110520b

 

your warm flesh trembles

I stroke your cheek

crumbs of black earth falling

from my cold hands

 

110120b

 

nailing the lid down

we thought Uncle Jake's 

harassment of his ex

would end when he died

080420

Content

I fear no thing except an open flame,

I work because it’s what I want to do,

No lash or blade can cause me any pain,

No overseer enslave me in his crew,

My hunger ever burns but doesn’t rule,

I cut my victims from the human herd,

I kill them first; don’t ever say I’m cruel,

The Hollywood portrayals: so absurd.

My flesh is hard, impervious, and dry,

Just as it was since from my grave I rose,

I last forever and I never change,

The living are like mayflies, born and die,

Beset by fear, of what, they never know,

The only thing I fear is dancing flame.

073020c

This microorganism we've created will briefly animate the corpses of those it kills. Not practical, but so very cool!

032420b

Antiquities from beyond the Coalsack Nebula




cracking open a bottle of
million-year-old perfume
the heiress drops dead
then immediately rises again
good to know this stuff
works on DNA-based life
next question:
                           how do you turn this flamethrower on?

020620d

the face I once loved

dodging your long arms

and striking a match

120419

The Yellow Text

My cell played a snippet of “Night on Bald Mountain.”

“Hav u seen th yellow text?”

The zombie kid, fingers flying, was staring at me. I shivered. I know we are supposed to not be prejudiced, but he really creeps me out. It's not the green flaky skin, or the hair, so much as the stare. Like he's looking at me from the other side, and inviting me to come home with him after school. No freakin' way! I didn't answer.

My phone again. Him again. I deleted it unread. He sent a few more texts and I deleted all of them. Then I heard Charlotte's cell from the back of the room. I knew it was hers; it plays part of that new Franz Ferdinand song. I couldn't see her without being really obvious, but I could see the zombie staring in her direction. Oh no he wasn't! She was too good for him. And, thinking about the two of them together ... ick! Then his phone beeped. He answered. Her ring tone again. This made me mad. If Charlotte's going to spend time with anyone, it's me. They went back and forth a couple more times and then the bell rang. Charlotte brushed by as I stood up. I called her name, but she didn't stop.

Last period I have French and she has history. I texted her three or four times, but she didn't answer. As soon as class ended I hustled down to the history room. I got there just in time to see her and the zombie leaving together. He was talking. I couldn't see her face, but she was shuffling along just like the zombie does.

I pushed through the crowd to the exit, but outside, I couldn't find her anywhere, and she didn't answer her cell. About an hour later, I heard “Night on Bald Mountain.” It was Charlotte. I opened the text. NOW she answers!

“Hav u seen th yellow text?”

A chill went up my spine, honest to god. I didn't answer, and she didn't text again.

About three in the morning a patrolman found her on a bench in the park. She was cold and so badly decayed he thought she must have been dead for weeks. They didn't find her cell phone, or the zombie kid. He didn't come back to school and I haven't been able to find him.

But there's just one thing. I still have those texts he sent me. I deleted them, but they're not gone until you delete them twice. I'm thinking of taking a look at the second one. Just that one. Then we'll see.

Publ. The Simian Transcript, 2010
You can't get it new, but https://www.alibris.com/booksearch.detail?invId=13196647892&utm_medium=affiliate&utm_source=oP5Nuw5q6fc&utm_campaign=2&siteID=oP5Nuw5q6fc-MLBkhIk729c9xm8XZ44Q0Q 

113019c

the shriveled face I once loved

dodging your long arms

and striking a match

081619

The waste bin stirs
The bakery silent
In the streetlight gloom
Out it crawls
Crusted with hardened sugar
The bun reborn
A day old and hungry for companionship
Somehow it knows
Creeping into the case
I'm not sure how it does it
Soon cupcakes, muffins, brownies, all
Fall under its sway
Morning, the baker stumbles in
Yawning
Faces a united front
Pastries move in
Oh, they'll open today
It might be a bit late
But it'll be special

070119

A correspondent has pointed out what should have been obvious: I should submit to Weirdbook. And it turns out that the two-week submission window opens in two weeks. Time to get busy!

012019c

Come sit by the fire, old man

Back from the grave,

wearing a brown cloak of leaves,

he shuffles stiffly through the town,

head down.

He’s not seeking a lover, or vengeance,

he’s not seeking anything at all,

but there he is,

and we let him in

because no one should be out in the cold

on this late-October night.

103018

the month of terror ends

at last

the sun rises

some few of us

have survived to see All Hallows morn

we give thanks

that we are not yet

among the dead

and that the days of October

are only 31

102218

nobody believes in the zombie apocalypse anymore
they've moved on to the mummy apocalypse
(fight rags with fire)
the werewolf apocalypse
(stake out a goat every full moon)
and the shoggoth apocalypse
(if the Great Race couldn't stop them, what hope have we?
we're all gonna die)

062718

raindrop-imprinted
mud veneers her face
time to rise

020818

I Ate a Zombie

[You need a strong stomach to enjoy reading this.]

I had had enough. First the damn things ate little Mary Sue. They caught her down by the creek, where she'd gone to fetch water for Grandma. All we ever found was one of her shoes. Grandma was next to go. She was out in the garden in a wheelchair, picking raspberries, armed only with her cane. She never had a chance. One by one they were picked off and assimilated. Even great uncle George, who can't have been very nutritious. Skin and bones already and dead these last 40 years, propped up in his rocking chair and wired in place. Even ate the wire.

I knew I had to catch one alone, that I couldn't handle more than one at a time. At least not yet. I will spare you the gory details. Suffice it to say that a couple of days later I had a zombie, sans hands, strapped to a gurney in my late family's kitchen. It was conscious, if a zombie can ever be said to be conscious.

Now, I know what you're thinking. One bite from a zombie and you're infected. But stomach acids are really powerful. I figured they would destroy the bacteria or whatever. And here I am! Anyway, I started cautiously, and performed an experiment like any scientist would. I fed a bit to my dog. He was pretty hungry and dogs aren't that picky anyway. He wolfed it right down. I waited till the next morning and he seemed to have suffered no ill effects, so I cut a small piece for myself. All this time that zombie was screaming and wailing and carrying on like he was being killed and eaten alive. When everyone knows they have no feelings.

That piece of zombie flesh I cut stank somethin' fierce. And stuff was movin' in it. At first I thought I wouldn't be able to force it down, it was so nasty, but a little whiskey did the trick.

Well I can't show it to you. Ate the whole thing. Ran out of any other food. Got to like the stuff after a while. Hard to believe, looking back, that I even had a problem with it. Had to eat the zombie; didn't want to eat my dog! Course, later I did have to eat my dog.

No, not me. Fit as a fiddle, 'cept I have a skin condition.

I simply must insist that you stay for dinner. I have been missing human companionship, trapped up here all alone. I stayed here because I really didn't think there were any people left; thought everyplace else was infested with zombies.

Yes, I did say I ate my dog because I had nothing else left to eat. But I have food now, so you are more than welcome to stay. Much more than welcome. So. Please. Have. A. Seat. Now.

Now that's just ridiculous. Bullets won't stop me.

011018d

Zombies are barred
From kitchen work
They put too much
Of themselves into it

060317b

Rapture

They shuffle past, eyes closed,

somehow avoiding curb- and light-pole mishaps;

the last notes in abandoned journals

all refer to “The Singularity;”

are they dreaming a shared nirvana?

Will survivors notice attrition by starvation?

One stumbles, falls, doesn’t move again,

other trudgers pay no heed,

moving unsteadily but without cease;

their travels seem brownian,

evince no regularity or purpose.

I keep expecting some manifestation,

some intrusion into the world,

justification of the term Singularity,

not just these empty shells.

050713

the corpse simulated
life Antarctically
its frozen braaaaainz

free verse couplet

check for marrow implants
zombie idea of a strip search

free verse couplet

check for marrow implants
zombie idea of a strip search