Dracula Eating Lunch with Victims Impaled around his Feast; a Hairshirt on a Evening Martyr; Murderer’s Garotte in Darkened Alleys; a Postulant’s Pure Innocence the Color of Unopened Morning Pearls

Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem

The nights and days, all we have never known

Spin all around.  We ignorant of all

The nights and days that well make us moan

For ignorance.  All these spin like a scrawl

At best when we attempt the foreign realms

Of shamans painting roof and wall of stone

Six thousand decades gone, or pirate helms

That ram for bullion, or a whale alone

In Arctic eons much beyond the minds

Of serenaders in an early dawn

Of Andalusia, or convent blinds

Of mystic pain by St. Teresa drawn.

  Hawaiian princesses in clutch of sex

     Are foreign like a wizard’s midnight hex.