The candy seller
Sells poison popsicles
They are ill-tasting
And expensive.

***

A young man lifts
A blade to the sky
Orange fire
Leaps from a thousand mouths.

***

In a forest clearing
Two lovers, one
Mad, one
Unfaithful.

***

Other end
Of an oaken spoon
Meets muddy depths
Of an old man's stew.

***

Wet, formless flesh
Thrown desperately
Time and time again
Against wooden boards.

***

Chants and canticles
Upon a blackened hill
A stone and cross
Jut from the living earth.

***

Food and shelter
Are confused
Urchins eat a rich man's cloak,
Huddling in a cow's ribcage.

***

Moths, moths, moths,
Moths, moths, moths, moths,
Moths, moths,
Moths.

***

Words lose meaning
Spoken one time too many
A silence descends
Upon the blasted husk of man.

***

A million, billion fish
Flopping endlessly
Mouths open and close
The oceans have dried up.

***

The skies open, like a vault
Revealing blinding red
A blaring tonal repetition
Is the sound of the soul.

***

The last man living
Warns his brother beside him:
"H--"is words are garbled noise
There is no greater finality.

--->Arne Gustaf Swanberg