Category: Art

Werewolves—The Hounds of Hate

Afraid & weak, NAZI werewolves bark, bite, howl, yip. If they didn’t run in packs, they’d be nothing, pornography.

But alive, poem by Michael Dickel, self-portrait age 61, digital art from photographs

But alive | poem

This poem struggles in the middle of the night, wrestling with my 61st birthday and sense of failure. The poem begins:

“You want to sleep—but across the tundra,
or perhaps desert hard scrabble. The time
change lags behind and no one wants to
fund you, not even you.”