somethingdarker

On new strange roadways bound - Edwina Stanton Babcock "Bouncing Bet"

Cranberries strewn like unholy rosaries - Edwina Stanton Babcock "Coast Yarn"

Where swirls of silver imagery sweep - Edwina Stanton Babcock "Dock Drama"

Applause in broken scattering sound - Edwina Stanton Babcock "Dock Drama"

Revelled in cobwebs the twisted staircase wore - Edwina Stanton Babcock "Ghost House"

In this glittering piece-work world - Edwina Stanton Babcock "Ghost House"

No wonder the black mole tunnels under the garden loam - Edwina Stanton Babcock "Ghost House"

Under her knotted boards where wild kittens hide - Edwina Stanton Babcock "Ghost House"

Life is lanterned into Dream - Edwina Stanton Babcock "Nantucket Windows"

The cottage lights a hundred starlights follow - Edwina Stanton Babcock "Nantucket Windows"

Who walked with Science to mark the lights along dark ways - Edwina Stanton Babcock "Pathmaker (To Maria Mitchell)"

Rapt on ethereal roads of satellites - Edwina Stanton Babcock "Pathmaker (To Maria Mitchell)"

Beyond the brim of sparkling nebula meadows - Edwina Stanton Babcock "Pathmaker (To Maria Mitchell)"

Hang on the shivering wind-swept year - Edwina Stanton Babcock "Song of Scarlet"

Soft friendships of pretty paint and kindnesses of mortar - Edwina Stanton Babcock "Structures"

Heart-broken shapes that stand in field and sky - Edwina Stanton Babcock "Structures"


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Athwart the untravelled wilds of space - B. "To an Evening Cloud" [The Knickerbocker Jan. 1844]

Passing with the flight of time - B. "Two Pictures: Love Celestial" [The Knickerbocker Feb. 1844]

Let hallowed dust return to dust - B. "Two Pictures: Love Celestial" [The Knickerbocker Feb. 1844]

Triumphant wear a crown of light - B. "Two Pictures: Love Celestial" [The Knickerbocker Feb. 1844]

The shadowy realm where all is grief and gloom - B. "Two Pictures: Love Terrestrial" [The Knickerbocker Feb. 1844]

To him that speaks the last farewell - B. "Two Pictures: Love Terrestrial" [The Knickerbocker Feb. 1844]


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My allegiances could change - Emily Berry "Allegiances"

Morning is a gown put on at midnight - Emily Berry "Allegiances"

I don't know what your secrets are - Emily Berry "Allegiances"

The burning fuel of dead stars - Emily Berry "Allegiances"

My head is full of this insomniac light - Emily Berry "Arlene and Esme"

The night pouring from my hands - Emily Berry "Arlene and Esme"

My voice opens and calls you in - Emily Berry "The End"

You can't ask a person who doesn't exist - Emily Berry "The End"

Strange love for the living, strange love for the dead - Emily Berry "The End"

Standing in the garden and gazing out - Emily Berry "Freud's Beautiful Things"

Trying to rescue a birdcage from the burning house - Emily Berry "Freud's Beautiful Things"

Not normally a hunter of relics - Emily Berry "Freud's Beautiful Things"

What makes all autobiographies worthless - Emily Berry "Freud's Beautiful Things"

Isolation, quite steep and slanting - Emily Berry "Freud's War"

The weight of the decisions in you - Emily Berry "Ghosts (Homage to Burial)"

In a lift shaft on the other side of the night - Emily Berry "Ghosts (Homage to Burial)"

A symbol you alone could hear - Emily Berry "Ghosts (Homage to Burial)"

One part of me would become a ghost - Emily Berry "[This spirit she]"

Like I have mourned no other loss - Emily Berry "[This spirit she]"

A flame that can ride water - Emily Berry "[This spirit she]"

Checked the locks three times - Emily Berry "[This spirit she]"

Drew hearts round the keyholes - Emily Berry "[This spirit she]"

The deepest rooted dream of a tree - Emily Berry "Unexhausted Time"

A phobia is a ritual of not-doing - Emily Berry "Unexhausted Time"

An injunction from a distant government - Emily Berry "Unexhausted Time"

A gate that leads to nowhere - Emily Berry "Unexhausted Time"


Poet's bio at poetryfoundation.org.


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Reach through our coats to count our vertebrae - Jenny Blackford "Beneath the Wheeler Centre"

To change the future, change the past - Jenny Blackford "Beneath the Wheeler Centre"

A silver lining of a poor sort - Jenny Blackford "Beneath the Wheeler Centre"

However bright his tools or sharp his skills - Jenny Blackford "Beneath the Wheeler Centre"

Shards of the engraved roc egg - Jenny Blackford "Eleven Exhibits in a Better Natural History Museum, London"

A perfect emerald the size and shape of a whale - Jenny Blackford "Eleven Exhibits in a Better Natural History Museum, London"

Snap-frozen in the blizzards called down by Baba Yaga - Jenny Blackford "Eleven Exhibits in a Better Natural History Museum, London"

The preserved remains of a bronze giant - Jenny Blackford "Eleven Exhibits in a Better Natural History Museum, London"

Eldritch visions of the Armageddon of the Elder Gods - Jenny Blackford "Eleven Exhibits in a Better Natural History Museum, London"

Sharp-pointed skeletons of ancient geometric trolls - Jenny Blackford "Power Men"

Trees and houses keep their careful distance - Jenny Blackford "Power Men"

Giant feet grounded deep in bedrock - Jenny Blackford "Power Men"

Giant dervishes dancing under the ancient stars - Jenny Blackford "Power Men"


Poet's bio at Strange Horizons.


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The weight of ashes from burned-out camps - Kimberly Blaeser "Apprentice to Justice"

No dustbowl wind can lift this history of loss - Kimberly Blaeser "Apprentice to Justice"

Forgotten forms tremble into wholeness - Kimberly Blaeser "Apprentice to Justice"

Ghost forests raked by bears - Kimberly Blaeser "Apprentice to Justice"

Hoard names as if they could be stolen - Kimberly Blaeser "Apprentice to Justice"

Will paper their walls with maps and broken promises - Kimberly Blaeser "Apprentice to Justice"

The woodpecker sound of an old retreat - Kimberly Blaeser "Apprentice to Justice"

Perhaps we do well to live with uncertainty - Kimberly Blaeser "After Words"

Then we must rehearse goodbye - Kimberly Blaeser "After Words"

Each epoch a burnished stratum - Kimberly Blaeser "Cadastre, Apostle Islands"

Trace ownership in treaties and deeds - Kimberly Blaeser "Cadastre, Apostle Islands"

Salvage logs now kilned and carved - Kimberly Blaeser "Cadastre, Apostle Islands"

The echo of old names and weighted fill of rocks - Kimberly Blaeser "Cadastre, Apostle Islands"

Each cubed hollow the math of absence and distance - Kimberly Blaeser "Cadastre, Apostle Islands"

A storied purple destiny of ships run aground - Kimberly Blaeser "Cadastre, Apostle Islands"

Mirror the fetal scroll of fiddlehead ferns - Kimberly Blaeser "Cadastre, Apostle Islands"

We take up space in their ledgers - Kimberly Blaeser "I was built by inherited hungers. This is not a poem that names them."

My relatives are the salvage bodies of history - Kimberly Blaeser "I was built by inherited hungers. This is not a poem that names them."

The garden song calls the pollinators - Kimberly Blaeser "I was built by inherited hungers. This is not a poem that names them."

Not everything tattered is ruined - Kimberly Blaeser "I was built by inherited hungers. This is not a poem that names them."

Built of equations for gain - Kimberly Blaeser "I was built by inherited hungers. This is not a poem that names them."

Not all of our tools have price tags - Kimberly Blaeser "I was built by inherited hungers. This is not a poem that names them."

Not all of our safeguards are weapons - Kimberly Blaeser "I was built by inherited hungers. This is not a poem that names them."

In the trombone slide of history - Kimberly Blaeser "A Quest for Universal Suffrage"

Turn to the older congress of the sun - Kimberly Blaeser "A Quest for Universal Suffrage"

In the assembled stories of sky - Kimberly Blaeser "A Quest for Universal Suffrage"

The mathematics of bending trees - Kimberly Blaeser "A Quest for Universal Suffrage"

Each seasonal chorus colored with resilience - Kimberly Blaeser "A Quest for Universal Suffrage"

Wear this ancient armour of belonging - Kimberly Blaeser "A Quest for Universal Suffrage"

Suffered and sweetly mended nets of abundance - Kimberly Blaeser "A Quest for Universal Suffrage"

Shatter into triangles of mosaic light - Kimberly Blaeser "Unlawful Assembly"

Pungent in the still images sacrificed to history - Kimberly Blaeser "Unlawful Assembly"

A ghosted threshold of being - Kimberly Blaeser "The Way We Love Something Small"

An arc of almost - Kimberly Blaeser "The Way We Love Something Small"


Poet's page at poets.org.


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The roads they take in journeying - Robert Blair "The Grave"

The appointed place of rendezvous - Robert Blair "The Grave"

Where all these travellers meet - Robert Blair "The Grave"

Sustains the keys of Hell and Death - Robert Blair "The Grave"

Lets fall a supernumerary horror - Robert Blair "The Grave"

That loves to dwell 'midst skulls and coffins - Robert Blair "The Grave"

Again the screech-owl shrieks - Robert Blair "The Grave"

Draws near to the witching time of night - Robert Blair "The Grave"

Mysterious cement of the soul - Robert Blair "The Grave"

Far, far beyond what I can ever pay - Robert Blair "The Grave"

The rose assumed a dye more deep - Robert Blair "The Grave"

Bear the strife of little tongues and coward insults - Robert Blair "The Grave"

Mock whom they were meant to honour - Robert Blair "The Grave"

To mimic sorrow when the heart's not sad - Robert Blair "The Grave"

Bold insurancers of deathless fame - Robert Blair "The Grave"

The mystic cone, with hieroglyphics crusted - Robert Blair "The Grave"

The labour of whole ages tumbles down - Robert Blair "The Grave"

Who swam to sovereign rule through seas of blood - Robert Blair "The Grave"

Shakes hands with dust - Robert Blair "The Grave"

And with blunt truth acquaints us - Robert Blair "The Grave"

Catches hold of what comes next to hand - Robert Blair "The Grave"

Trusts only in the well-invented knife - Robert Blair "The Grave"

Travelling through the boundless length of space - Robert Blair "The Grave"

Returning to the barren womb of nothing - Robert Blair "The Grave"

Death's thousand doors stand open - Robert Blair "The Grave"

If we challenged him to do his worst - Robert Blair "The Grave"

Your shine enlightens but yourself - Robert Blair "The Grave"

Yet launch out into fantastic schemes - Robert Blair "The Grave"

To frolic on eternity's dread brink - Robert Blair "The Grave"

With all his guards and tools of power - Robert Blair "The Grave"

Unmindful of their former feuds - Robert Blair "The Grave"

Whose every day was made of melody - Robert Blair "The Grave"

The wrecks of nations, and the spoils of time - Robert Blair "The Grave"

With all the lumber of six thousand years - Robert Blair "The Grave"

Belches molten stone and globes of fire - Robert Blair "The Grave"

Toads and serpents of most deadly kind - Robert Blair "The Grave"

Whets to keenest eagerness his cravings - Robert Blair "The Grave"


Poet's Wikipedia page


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Their glossary of knocks - Traci Brimhall "Aubade on a Ghost Hunt"

This kiss and its sleepless itinerary - Traci Brimhall "Aubade on a Ghost Hunt"

Held you like a victory - Traci Brimhall “Fledgling”

The stricken pleasure of intimacy - Traci Brimhall “Fledgling”

Stars of flowers brightening the moss - Traci Brimhall "Mouth of the Canyon"

A common fritillary avoiding the wind in the yucca - Traci Brimhall "Mouth of the Canyon"

The dark rain veil making a bride of the mountain - Traci Brimhall "Mouth of the Canyon"

The dizziness of height and breeze and vultures wheeling - Traci Brimhall "Mouth of the Canyon"

Wheeling, songless and full of grace - Traci Brimhall "Mouth of the Canyon"

Rattlesnakes making a cursive communion on the road - Traci Brimhall "Mouth of the Canyon"

The way the stars ambush their loneliness - Traci Brimhall "Mouth of the Canyon"

The waning moon glowing like a hypothesis - Traci Brimhall "Mouth of the Canyon"


Poet's page at poets.org.


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on a winter evening eyes see furthest - Dylan Brennan "A First Glimpse of Ireland" [excerpt]

glacial moraine of gravel & clay - Dylan Brennan "A First Glimpse of Ireland" [excerpt]

a surge of foam to cover us all - Dylan Brennan "A First Glimpse of Ireland" [excerpt]

meadowsweet softened by drizzle - Dylan Brennan "A First Glimpse of Ireland" [excerpt]

the fossilized needles of a monkey puzzle - Dylan Brennan "A First Glimpse of Ireland" [excerpt]

a herd of stars coaxed from a river - Dylan Brennan "A First Glimpse of Ireland" [excerpt]

a very black thing at the edge of a sward - Dylan Brennan "A First Glimpse of Ireland" [excerpt]

hazel saplings densely clustered - Dylan Brennan "A First Glimpse of Ireland" [excerpt]

a rotting wolf in a field of clover - Dylan Brennan "A First Glimpse of Ireland" [excerpt]

archipelagos drowned by the melting of ice - Dylan Brennan "A First Glimpse of Ireland" [excerpt]

a fruitful harbour entered through song - Dylan Brennan "A First Glimpse of Ireland" [excerpt]


Poet's page at poets.org.


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In a land of ice and mirth and explicit promise - Bruce Boston "Ajax Redux"

I don't hunger for your glittering glory - Bruce Boston "Ajax Redux"

Trading gold for flesh, lives for legends - Bruce Boston "Ajax Redux"

Your exotic rampage through the annals of myth - Bruce Boston "Ajax Redux"

Backing away in a trapped circle - Bruce Boston "Alien Quarry"

The lightning and thunder rush of his thoughts - Bruce Boston "Alien Quarry"

Woven from cloth whole and tattered - Bruce Boston "All the Starry Audience"

Shattered forms scattered across the landscape - Bruce Boston "Beyond the Clouds of Paradise"

Beneath the wry shade of the architrave - Bruce Boston "The Canticles of Rage"

Herein lies the hard pentagonal truth - Bruce Boston "The Canticles of Rage"

Appraise the aggravated fortune of the stranded millions - Bruce Boston "The Canticles of Rage"

Can still evoke the canticles of rage - Bruce Boston "The Canticles of Rage"

With little hope of reaching our destinations - Bruce Boston "Chess People"

Sleep safe in the shade of civilization - Bruce Boston "Children of the Mutant Rain Forest"

A shadow dream of emerald possession - Bruce Boston "Children of the Mutant Rain Forest"

A vacuum that devours all it surveys - Bruce Boston "Curse of the Void's Husband"

Streets and buildings in constant flux - Bruce Boston "Dream People"

Directions to our shifting destinations - Bruce Boston "Dream People"

Remain lost between event horizons - Bruce Boston "Dream People"

Our own altered histories and future visions - Bruce Boston "Dream People"

Infinite in its potential and terrifying in its command - Bruce Boston "Futurity Wears the Head"

And threatens you with dark possibility - Bruce Boston "Futurity Wears the Head"

Down a hall where your portrait becomes ancestral - Bruce Boston "Futurity Wears the Head"

With an accelerating appetite that can devour generations - Bruce Boston "Futurity Wears the Head"

A dynamic rendition of the hospscotched [sic] past - Bruce Boston "Futurity Wears the Head"

Roam the empty highways in search of life - Bruce Boston "Ghost People"

Migrate through the walls of deserted homes - Bruce Boston "Ghost People"

Become manifest in abandoned bedrooms or kitchens - Bruce Boston "Ghost People"

Stealing into ruin as the centuries unraveled - Bruce Boston "Ghost People"

Through gray streets beneath an ashen sky - Bruce Boston "Gray People"

Wearing gray coats and monochromatic expressions - Bruce Boston "Gray People"

Gray and threadbare from the passage of many feet - Bruce Boston "Gray People"

Pallid dawns and pale sunsets enclosing our gray inclinations - Bruce Boston "Gray People"

Have nailed and sealed the universe complete - Bruce Boston "The Last Alchemist"

Down to the last stray molecule and rebel atom - Bruce Boston "The Last Alchemist"

Turning baser metals to golden illumination - Bruce Boston "The Last Alchemist"

The last alchemist will retreat to a birdsong wood - Bruce Boston "The Last Alchemist"

A rushing stream clean as a burning flame - Bruce Boston "The Last Alchemist"

The bruised & bloodied vocabularies of the urban night - Bruce Boston "The Lesions of Genetic Sin"

Up through the poles of a dead telegraphy - Bruce Boston "The Lesions of Genetic Sin"

Impaled on the pinnacles of a brassy skyscape - Bruce Boston "The Lesions of Genetic Sin"

Give her back her time-thorned flesh - Bruce Boston "The Lesions of Genetic Sin"

Rendered in disparate jigsaw flashes - Bruce Boston "The Lesions of Genetic Sin"

Aware that the entire cosmos may be watching - Bruce Boston "The Lesions of Genetic Sin"

The majestic blooming of the century plant - Bruce Boston "A Life in the Day Of"

Assassinates the art of nuclear mystics - Bruce Boston "A Life in the Day Of"

Drink peppermint tea with the ghost of morning - Bruce Boston "A Life in the Day Of"

So we could inhabit a circle of power - Bruce Boston "Marble People"

Far above the antics of such childlike games - Bruce Boston "Marble People"

Hidden in the branching veins of earthbound stone - Bruce Boston "Marble People"

A release from light years passed - Bruce Boston "The Music of Deep Spacers"

A vast and haunting refrain that echoes the depths of space - Bruce Boston "The Music of Deep Spacers"

Temporary lodgings beneath the static of the stars - Bruce Boston "The Music of Deep Spacers"

Float to the moon in origami rockets - Bruce Boston "Origami Rockets"

Astronauts from a childhood fantasy - Bruce Boston "Origami Rockets"

Up from their craters and their moon caves - Bruce Boston "Origami Rockets"

Just the right sort to carry our dreams - Bruce Boston "Origami Rockets"

The poisonous elements in our own composition - Bruce Boston "Parchment People"

A recurring nightmare about being trapped in a Mason jar - Bruce Boston "Signs You Could Be a Clone"

A clock that makes a different noise every hour - Bruce Boston "Surreal Domestic"

Engines of desire roaming the lost highways - Bruce Boston "Surreal Fortune"

The inversion fields of an autodidactic summer - Bruce Boston "Surreal Fortune"

Urges the palomino up a burning slope - Bruce Boston "Surreal Fortune"

Moon frenzied by outlaw pollen - Bruce Boston "Surreal Fortune"

Echo in the corridors of skyscraper dreams - Bruce Boston "Surreal Fortune"

Fireworks in fields of feldspar and lace - Bruce Boston "Surreal Fortune"

The sun shot brilliance of a polished knife - Bruce Boston "Surreal Fortune"

The astronomer on the far side of the moon - Bruce Boston "Surreal Fortune"

The borders of peripheral vision - Bruce Boston "Surreal Fortune"

Archipelago of dream plastics already ancient - Bruce Boston "Surreal Fortune"

A reality framed by random association - Bruce Boston "Surreal People"

Metaphoric explosion and grotesque hyperbole - Bruce Boston "Surreal People"

Startling revelations lost in the moment - Bruce Boston "Surreal People"

Liquid ticking in a petrified railway station - Bruce Boston "Surreal People"

Gods and goddesses of geometric exactitude - Bruce Boston "Surreal People"

While burning herbivores strolled across a lean horizon - Bruce Boston "Surreal People"

The substance of the world began to sing - Bruce Boston "When Clock Is Egg"

Distilled in the hard flesh of the moment - Bruce Boston "When Clock Is Egg"

Tying down the wind with rope or chain or tackle - Bruce Boston "Wind People"

Hydrogen bubbles exploding into light and energy - Bruce Boston "The Would-Be Gods of Sonofusion"

We have tapped the heart of the sun - Bruce Boston "The Would-Be Gods of Sonofusion"

Embrace the stubborn dream of perpetual energy - Bruce Boston "The Would-Be Gods of Sonofusion"


Snippets by Bruce Boston & Robert Frazier in collaboration.



Poet's Wikipedia page.


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Crawl restless under the skin - Lindsey Boldt "A Bartable Enya Afternoon"

Ferret of flame & levity - Lindsey Boldt "A Bartable Enya Afternoon"

A badger at the brow - Lindsey Boldt "A Bartable Enya Afternoon"

A purposeless express of joy - Lindsey Boldt "A Bartable Enya Afternoon"

An absurdity into a crowd of absurdities - Lindsey Boldt "A Bartable Enya Afternoon"


Poet's page at poets.org.


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