Powder's Poetry Fragments
Old Goban drank the Smithy’s
From cups they’d hammered out.
They laughed at love and mortal hopes
And plucked the rose of mortal doubt.
Out of the darkness into the light
Beware the monsters of the night.
They wait as shapes we recognize,
We know them for their wormy eyes.
Run with the wind and leap with delight,
But not just darkness hides a fright.
Between their aleph null and aleph
Crouch the imps of old Nobodaddy.
Feasting there the creator Caliph
Gnaws the souls and eschews the body.
In the starry space of original sins,
In the lapsed synapse where bright eyes gleam,
In the moment before the moment begins,
In that place the genies scheme.
Let your mourning pass with the Dawn
Unto Eve’s sweet rest of peace.
The seasons enfold him now
In Winter’s silent fleece,
In the wet green shoots of Spring,
In Summer’s friendly leaves,
Now the bright gold pledge of Fall
Enveils him in its sheaves.
Let your grief with light be gone
And your mourning pass with the Dawn.
Granddad was born in the dark of the moon
To the wail of old Scratch’s hound.
Night winds battled and the windows rattled
And the prairie bent close to the ground.
A skinny old man of Van Horn
Had a helper with skills most forlorn.
While their customers grumbled,
They tinkered and fumbled,
Those clever compeers of Van Horn.