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Our Dead World 2001
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Watching, a prisoner, from my shattered darkness
isolated on a beach facing cold, uncommunicating waters
emotionally deprived, socially unacceptable
wholly chained to a mighty wall of rock
no vultures eat at my heart;
it is already consumed
yet I live yet I breathe yet I strain
against the bonds enslaving me
sometimes praying for no other release
except the recovery of my feelings


No exorcism can help me
no tunnel lead to my escape
Saturn and Jupiter flail at one another
overhead heedless to my cries
Endurance is my savior
grit and sinew against chains
pull at the steel bands
claw at the merciless heat fog hail snow rain
release fear release hate release dissention
live and die; die and live


Bars cannot hold my spirit
nor shackles bind deep fortitude
Strength, saint-like whispers to me past
the dark, threatening clouds of confusion
constant dissonance cannot distract me
my visage is set; fling the worst
Survival, godlike whispers to me past
the din of noise and blathering idiot wind
that seeks to suck the only thing I can
still take for my own
one breath after another
Time caresses my wounds and kisses
whole the gap where my heart
did once reside; did once love
and laughing, knew no rage or curse


drifting too close
the ice flashing
the instant glimpse
of eternity passing
a moment to sooner
a moment to later
the memories flick
through the mind
of the driver whose
car suddenly
succumbs to gravity
and sails in a perfect
arch over the
guard rail

Phillip Clay Wilkerson 2001.

Formidable Hideous

Formidable Hideous the beast of beasts and father to none,
this is not to say he has no children,
Bewitched and enriched by the light of his own darkness a scholar of war and a temptress of thought.
A touch from the hideous a brand to the unbranded and a warning to the rest, unknown but feared by people in certain circles. A marvel to others who yearn for the knowledge of the foolish.
Be warned my fellows of the bespoken dark, a look to mirror may reveal the hideous desires of the one known as Formidable.

Phillip Howe 2001.


Death falls all around me
as sweet and ordinary as

In November I am planning
Hejira- a partial suicide--

Desolation is de-soulation
no coffee cures it, no
radio exorcisms or
it's the lack of
miracles I've come to
as ordinary as

That was the logic
behind attempts at
exodus, fumbling
towards veiled divinity

veiled, coquettish divinity
never leaving a message
when I miss the callback,
as ordinary

Death is common,
as ordinary as a
wake-up call, as

If I expected miracles
they would be ordinary
God-bumper stickers
as ordinary as divinity

I tuned into the
pop culture of
divine miracles, now
it's all that ordinary

Exodus, the tiny
surreptitious flight
across enemy lines,
silent; 6th sense
perception of barbed

Hejira, ordinary
the missed exit,
pursuit of greater good,
greater god; good god, a

In pursuit of the ordinary
miracle, an
escape artist-

The divine callback
somewhere in transit on
the sacred highway.

2001. Julia Cramer.

Our Dead World 2000.