Knives Stories

in a field he stands, hisfeet in darkness, his dirty raggedface dull with themoon’s silverlight.the festoonery ofrags is about him,each borrowed garmentwith its story.those eyeshe wearsare not blindwithal;the empty sockets are filled with seeing.last night there weretwo in thelane,and he watched a dreadfulviolation;heard the terrorin hervoice,saw the sharpblade thrust in andout; the moon’spale phosphorescenceflashing to a...

I cling to speeding, spinning cones of leadThat pierce the air and armour, skin and bone;Once deep inside, I ditch my deathly rideAnd spread destruction, quell life's fragile wick.I cleave to sharpened shards of stainless steelThat separate the living from the dead.A scratch, a nick, a cut will let me inTo fester in the ragged bloodied flesh.I steal by roadsides, lakesides, seasides, waitingFor unwary or foolhardy soulsTo...