surrounded by his cornstalk cathedral
my Scarecrow stands high above
recites to us on this Hallows Eve
a ghost story of sorts
an urban hymn
in an eerie breeze that whispers dread…
a Red Moon lights up his playground
with scenes of floating phantom shadows
against Raven like skies
just dark enough to see
my ebony cat’s green eyes
haunting this lonesome homestead…
looking up at the starless sky
he asks if we know where Jack is
for tonight he wanders about
is he with that Horseman
in the sleepiest of hollows
who’s always looking for his head?
is he at the tombstones
where the clocks have stopped
with his marshmallow skeletons
and painted skulls of sugar
sitting with concrete angels
reading stories to the dead?
bewitched by his memories
is he calling for his dog
howling at earth’s satellite
is he out looking for his love
in sutured scenes of her
lost with a pull of a thread…
he’ll wait again in earthly slumber
hanging out down below
till another season comes round
to look for them once more
gone and back again
I wish you were here is what he said…
and as my Scarecrow waves us goodbye
he tells us not to mind
Jack digging around in our dreams
while he’s searching for his friends
as we lay sleeping in our bed…
Day 31
in these last desperate hours
on Day 31
begs the question for this living ghost
who are the monsters
where do they lie
are they hiding under beds preying on sugared dreams
maybe in darkened corners where the sunlight is lost
in damaged clouds hiding a wounded moon
or in cruel summer’s last blood red sunset
reflected in a sea of flames
almost vampiric
will this rattle these bones
down to its mortal coil
or can we stay a while
change our masks at midnight
and start our season again