The Road to Hell

They came with the night like
some kind of raggedy ass army
gone permanently over the hill
on mescaline and redbone white
lightning distilled into ceramic jugs
sold in off-license shotgun squats
so far in the wood they needed
blood hounds to find a way in
and out. Those who drank too soon
and too fast, still lost, food for flesh
eating critters and mythical beasts
from forests primeval like creatures
from circus side show dreams even
the freaks won't go near after the
hurricane lamps have been extinguished
in the tents where they reside, their
eyes retaining heat of the flame,
their breath scent of kerosene,
the swords they swallowed taken in
past the hilts; if they could speak,
they would ask for more.

Alan Catlin has published dozens of chapbooks of full length books of prose and poetry. The most recent being "Near Death in the Afternoon on Becker Street" from March Street Press. His most prized honor is the two most neglected books of the year designations by Marvin Malone legendary editor of the Wormwood Review.

TPQ3