Tanglefoot

Posted by Rich Magahiz Mon, 13 Sep 2010 13:35:00 GMT

the nine climb down

Corkscrew Dale

the bells go silent



Non ti lascerò mai
Originally uploaded by bluestardrop - Andrea Mucelli

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Mashup published in Dreams and Nightmares 85

Posted by Rich Magahiz Sat, 23 Jan 2010 01:40:00 GMT

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By milkfish, shot with KODAK EASYSHARE C643 ZOOM DIGITAL CAMERA at 2010-01-22
I just received my contributors’ copies of David Kopaska-Merkel’s Dreams and Nightmares, issue 85, which contain my Wallace Stevens – J. R. R. Tokien mashup Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Balrog. I read it again, and I have to admit that sometimes I crack me up.

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Temple Square

Posted by Rich Magahiz Thu, 10 Sep 2009 12:44:00 GMT

Utah Prime:
the Agate Prophet scowls
at the slur

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Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Balrog

Posted by Rich Magahiz Fri, 14 Aug 2009 18:59:00 GMT

    I
Among the mountain roots,
The only sound at all
Was the alarm summoning the Balrog.

    II
I was triply lost
Like a chamber
In which there were three Balrogs.

    III
The Balrog boiled up dwarf-hewn tunnels
It was minutes to showtime.

    IV
A flame and burning
Are one.
A flame and burning and a Balrog
Are one.

    V
I do not know what works better
Rocks split by hate,
Or rocks split by fear,
The flame-sword of the Balrog
Or his damn whip.

    VI
Stones bridge broad chasms
Thanks to the trolls.
The man-shaped Balrog
Leapt over, facing East.
The grey one
Names in the darkness
A secret fire.

    VII
Goblins of Khazad-dûm,
Why do you imagine dragon hoards?
Do you not see how the Balrog
Turns his black-gold eyes
Toward the surface?

    VIII
I know the Black Speech
And the drums that go Doom;
But I know, obviously,
That the Balrog is crucial
To what I know.

    IX
When the Balrog reached First Deep
A trail of smoke
Arched gently.

    X
At the sight of a Balrog
With a whip of thongs
Even Durin’s wife
Would squeal with excitement.

    XI
They made for the Great Gate
Stumbling and shoving.
Once, a fear shook them
In that they mistook
The shadow of an ogre
For a Balrog.

    XII
The bridge is smitten.
The Balrog must be plummeting.

    XIII
It was getting dark early
And down there
It was always dark.
The Balrog on shift
Did not clock out.

Obligatory attribution
Accepted for publication at Dreams and Nightmares
Nominated for a 2011 Rhysling Award (long poem) for the SFPA.

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Gossip

Posted by Rich Magahiz Sat, 19 Jul 2008 21:33:00 GMT

unlike
us,
she does not
keep it in a
cranium; instead it hangs
in a velvet pouch at her waist where it swings
not far from her dagger hand
and if you ask –
with a smile –
she’ll
show you

The Lucan-no-haiku form is described in a marginal note here. This one is a slight variation taking a mirrored 2-1-3-4-7-11-7-4-3-1-2 syllable count

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What smoke cannot hide

Posted by Rich Magahiz Sat, 29 Mar 2008 12:32:00 GMT

the bride wore sea-wrack,
overhead, flights of
serpents

O Polaris, how your contrails scorch

feeling
the ground move, to say nothing

of those shrieks

heretics swoon: Lord Hierophant

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Untitled

Posted by Rich Magahiz Thu, 27 Mar 2008 09:15:00 GMT

say “Avada Kedavra,” someone

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