By Harris Coverley
skies bronze—thick and dense
an arenose alloy world
foundries in the clouds
drizzling down sharp flakes of death
upon luckless astronauts
There are ghosts within that wind:
shouts through distant trees;
the siren screams of phone wires;
object disrespect –
children’s toys and neighbour’s tools;
upon our own porch
unoccupied chair rocking…
window pane whispers…
the unhinged door opening,
then closing behind,
some guests you’ve not invited.
By David Edwards
By Aeronwy Dafies
Frozen beauty, heart
Mistress of the icy north
Hidden by snowfall
Wishes only to be loved
Ever thwarted by herself
By Ken Poyner
The clouds are painted, but the moon polished. As the clouds keep drifting away, the painters tape off another section of sky. They consult on the particular hue for this tranche – are they depicting a seamless day of invincible uniformity, or portraying change, the beginning of darker or lighter or more entertaining days? There is no question with the moon. The moon circles unchanging. The phases come of big brother Earth stealing the moon’s sun. Polish it once, occasionally inspect for touch-up. The girl bonds to this work with energy to waste. It profits me: I have slept with her.
The Truck in Oz
By K. A. Williams
The whirlwind lifted up me and my truck and sailed us through the air. I ain’t never been so sick to my stomach.
When the wind finally set us down, the truck bumped over something and took off. I heard yelling and looked in the rear view mirror at a bunch of midgets shaking their little fists. Something white and sparkly glittered on the road behind me. That must have been what I’d landed on. Wonder what it was?
Nothing seemed familiar. I didn’t think I was in my hometown anymore. Was that a scarecrow hanging up in a cornfield? Yep it was. And it turned its head to look at me as I passed. Creepy.
If I hadn’t been staring at the tin man standing in front of a tree with his axe frozen in mid-air, I might not have hit the lion that ran out into the road in front of me. But honestly I couldn’t stop the truck in time.
SMACK! I got out and checked the beast. Dead. I examined the road I’d been on. First time I ever seen one made out of yellow bricks. I drug the lion into the woods and covered it with leaves and some twigs.
I was fixing to get back in my truck when I noticed something in the sky. Was that a witch coming toward me on a broom? Yep. Ugliest woman I done ever seen. Just my type. I took off my cowboy hat when she landed in front of me. “Howdy ma’am.”
“Are you the one that killed my sister?”
Uh-oh. “Did she have on a sparkly white dress?”
“Why ma’am it were an accident. My truck and me got picked up by a whirlwind that just sat us down where it pleased. I’m awful sorry.”
She smiled. It were a gruesome sight, my heart pounded in excitement.
“Don’t be sorry, I never liked her.”
“Is that right? How about giving me a reward then?”
“What kind of reward?”
“A kiss. That’s all I want. For now, anyway.” I winked.
She smiled again. “Well, what are you waiting on?”
I moved closer and kissed her. What we done after that ain’t nobody else’s business.
By Ken Poyner
The clouds kept coming down, kissing our ground. At first, the clouds simply touched down. Then they began to compact. They grew dense and it became hard to move about in them. It was as though trudging through water thigh deep, with the mist of clouds above. Finally, the tops of the clouds passed below eye level, and there was the sun. The clouds, still compacting, settled so low and hard that we could lift our feet out and walk on a macadam made of cloud alone. Nothing blocked the sun and we thought fearfully of the coming rainy season.
Tornado From Oz
By DJ Tyrer
In reverse scenario
Twister spirals over the rainbow
Depositing a bemused witch
And a dozen irritating Munchkins
Atop a bland Kansas-dwelling farmer
Resulting in lawsuits, insurance claims
But – no quests, nor murder
Just a great deal of confusion
And, unending asylum claims
By Mark Hudson
The tornado was haemorrhaging
Over dim skies and towns
Thinning out the herd
Cutting through, reaping
Damaged nation, nothing new
Soon it will be old news
An entire town laid flat
People sucked out of mobile homes
A jail in Kentucky affected
But nobody was able to escape
Not fair to the prisoners
Blonde haired blue eyed girl
Found abandoned in a field
Returned to her parents
Why do we question mortality?
We laugh at death
Till it’s our turn to go…