The weather is savage.
Wind churns the bay into frothing whitecaps.
The waves batter against the bulkhead with force that resonates through the cottage’s foundation. Two feet of concrete seems like a flimsy barrier upon which to depend when salty droplets pepper the windows.
Leaves and pine needles fall before the gusty assault, turning into missiles that sting the flesh, scoring it with reddened welts.
You feel small and mortal and anxious before such force.
It’s the perfect start to Halloween weekend.
To make it even better, the online literary journal Goreyesque has published my poem ‘Ogre’ in their Halloween edition.
Always a fan of the subtle, sublime, and unsettlingly brilliant author and artist Edward Gorey, I am honored.
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