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Collidor Passing
Attack of the Zombie Woman
A letter from Clyde Wilcox
Incredulus final version
Smoke stacks
The Firefly and #306

POEMS

Desert Dog
Two-lane highway. Easy Rest Inn
Desert stretched out across a blue-sky horizon
Desert dog runs near
The people from the big city make a picture show
The desert dog runs near
Lonely traveler
Lonely existence
Love comes one day early
The desert dog will run near, getting what it can
Tail wags, dust kicks up
Posted barbwire near
Today is a day for the desert dog
Other lonely travelers are near

Glass Catcher
Shattered fist
Noise of pollution, noise of the heart
The confusion haze and memories
Of lost Paces. Strides.
Lovers and haters
Art in shows
People in stride
Lost tribe

Hit that road boys
Keep searching for it, those days before
Believe it boys, the memories are now
Drive again by those ghetto sites
Metal grate graffiti nights
Those asking for change
Friends exchange the news
Those are the times of the fiction you long
Keep going boys, keep pushing where you want
Drinks on blood, the good times roll
Headlights, haze, gypsy girl daze
We heard it all, we saw it all in a flash
Searching again the crawl, the youth, the search
Weíre in it now, back in all over again
Make those memories boys, keep searching, and make it real
Hit that road boys

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Praying for winter.
Long park trail.
Trying to take visitors from our youth.
Hoping to take visitors to our youth.
Looking for cold break brittle branch.
Searching for child under scarf and glove.
Praying for winter again. Where is that friend
Trying to find that place. Cold wind winter youth

Soccer Player
His hair braided and grown together. Very fine.
His skin dark with experience.
He made his way down the street that day. His demeanor on defense.
I saw the soccer player through the iron grates. He never really looked back.
It was a hard life. He wore it all around him. The youth of poor and the adolescence of struggle.
But now he is a man. And he's not sure where he's been.
Working class. On the way home from or on the way to. He should shave but it doesnít really matter.
I never saw him on the field. And the day I saw him I wasn't even sure he wore a jersey.

Thunder child,
dancing across the break
Break in tide, voodoo mask
Thunder child, give us your roar
Tell us of days past
Scream the heartbreak of your people
Thunder child
Fill up the sky, fill with your might
Soul taker, let him pass

They are talking about sheep, about leading them to the kill
It's the shopping season
Blinkiing lights
Time to make money
Time to lead them in
Pop culture fits
Fits of rage
Rage and style
Passer by's pass by
They look on
Afraid to look
Afraid of the kill

Last chance.
Make this one up
To them
To us
Betrayer lay in the dark
He will be slain and lay dark forever
Some will dance on his grave
Others will poor whisky
I will do neither
For I will be the one to plant the knife

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