"All that mankind has done, thought, gained or been: it is lying as in magic preservation in the pages of books."
-Thomas Carlyle

by William Brewer

Hardly had an appetizer
By the time the bouncer recognized you,
Teased your tongue with crepes and crème and praline preludes
First you had your fill of cake you found at last unfilling.

You've become a yawning graveyard’s after-dinner biscuit,
Shepherd mogul minds a flock of untold hundreds
Hungry still to snatch my only yearling.
What an appetite abysmal.

Damn that hound-dog moon a-moping
Jilted clouds that pace the ebon heavens
Unrequited hopes of all the constellations
Stars that blink in fainting shudder for your second coming.

Wheeling ‘round again we’ll dream in flesh and bone together
Pleading patience, holding hands to bind a promise
Whispered from your unencumbered spirit,
Cried myself awake this morning.

William Brewer writes tales of mystery, often spiced with a hint of the supernatural. He is occasionally possessed to carve a few lines of verse from the ether of words yet unspoken. He welcomes on-line correspondence at wbrewer@houston.rr.com.