Night lights

considering love, or the lack of it;
on-the-other-hand-that –

in these steep and solitary hours
come the raw questions.
And sorrow surfaces as tears,
and moonlight finds me, stretched
like some trussed Gulliver, among
the little, scampering, bossy needs of life;
the pinpricks of the new day’s coming cares.

And yet.
The day will dawn. A bird will sing.
A hundred different clichés spring to life.
Even in this January,
Light, unstoppable, will show
the old camellia, up against the wall,
a shout of lipstick red.

Ann Alexander


I met him, fifteen years ago. I was told there was nothing left. No reason, no conscience, no understanding; even the most rudimentary sense of life or death, good or evil, right or wrong. I met this six-year-old child, with this blank, pale, emotionless face and, the blackest eyes…the devil’s eyes. I spent eight years trying to reach him, and then another seven trying to keep him locked up because I realized what was living behind that boy’s eyes was purely and simply…evil.

Halloween (1978)
Directed by John Carpenter who co-wrote the script with Debra Hill

Halloween Clown…

October 26, 2016


Trick or Treat
Something sweet
ghostly in my crisp white sheet

Foul or Fair
I don’t care
I’ll pull down your underwear…