Poem: The Father of Nightmares

A house alone

It is silent

But it is not silent

Ghosts creep out of the holes,

The empty spaces

In the resonance

Of my sad, evening sitar

I cannot let go of a single note

Without demons and eidolons

Racing out to catch it

Sleep only makes me susceptible:

They creep into my body

And influence my dreams

So that the hollow spaces

Are awash with monsters

And my dogs become

Strange women

With the faces of famous tennis instructors

It’s monster season, for sure,

And I swear I heard my mother’s voice

Even though she’s thousands of miles away

It’s been a busy day,

And Pluto,

The Father of Nightmares,

Is sure to have a busy night