" THE BONE CONJUROR'S "

An early evening shadow crawls lowly sleep
Yelling Latin through the air of cold nocturne
Draws a crooked circle, whirling dervish
On the ground as he prepares black otters
To conjure evil blood lines bones
Canaanite judges waiting there for divination
An old woman falls down dead, gray suffocation
Near the pit where the flames of Hell will burn her
Like a lonely Necromancer wearing a dead man's topcoat
Much akin to the old trance-like state of a rotting Shaman
The Bone conjurer's jump seamlessly through nightmarish themes
And all odd anticipation curdles, to green pathetic drips
Tapping time on the trash-lined gutters of New Orleans
And preying upon the drunken innocent
But before the daylight stops the Bone Conjurer's devouring
They must growl at the grave-diggers market place
For all who perform such deeds as these
Are an abomination to everything sacred
My noble Necromancer...

Tony Taylor   (Chicago)