Ken Poyner

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I came to the nudist hotel wearing red bathing trunks.

Narian is alright, for an alien.

The man who collects souls yelled, “Hey, I have another bag,” and I ran over to take it from him. It was my turn.

The air is fresh from the last rain.

This I can take care of:
Small homunculus on the roof, a pack animal
Pulled conveyance, and entry through the exhaust chute.

I am rich with the stuff,
Won from an enemy’s savage gardens.

I wonder if the orchestrator
Of these repetitive tragedies
Is thinking to conduct a war –

The pastor was taken aback when he was asked to perform the ceremony in a bear suit.

Lydia’s replica is downstairs washing dishes.

At some point, the deer stopped dying.