Christoph Praus Poems

Pistons roaring off the track,
But hopefully we'll make it,
Back among the Stones,
Between the mist and metal,
...

But one bird,
Had not misheard,
Likened to a K,
Rake and pent,
...

There is on top, the world,
A mountain tallest, red skied,
Black stoned fort, terrible cubed,
Wormholed deeply tunnels twist,
...

The Righteous flew,
Through brook and brush,
Fell breath upon his heels,
A dracjon's wing against the sky,
...

Beyond the Pale moon trees,
A bloodied hand,
Clasps rotten ground,
Goes whirling past,
...

On a gull's wings spread,
His scaling cries across the wind,
And winding him through currents vast,
To places known and not without,
...

Happy is she,
Careless and free,
Atop her redbrick fortress,
The day is her plaything,
...

Flowers, grass, we have to ask,
Where could they have gone?
The ground is bare,
With greenish flair,
...

The squamous things that lurk,
Slick little darknesses that hide,
Deep within that hollow core,
That needling hurt,
...