Faerystruck Down
In the rolling fog of the purple sea Where slugs infest the ridge And breeze-bent heather Tethers ghosts of the drowned Beyond the threshold of the mind Where sea hags howl at the moon And shapes unseen Sneak away human babes Lies the maritime trail I was warned not walk Urged by patrons of the old pub To return to America, and be gone at next breath: “For too tempting is the tourist from afar!” But I split my sides at their heathen pleas Doused their cares with whiskey and ale Till after a spell, I was cheered out of town Pushed along streets of leaping whispers So onward to accursed shores I went Bold with humor and the prod of drink Where fish-lipped merrows in cohuleen druiths Leered from frothy kelp isles And the mutterings in belch-bogs grew ever near . . . And the perverted, creeping shadows . . . I will never forget their dream-drenched faces As they sang and danced and picked over my end Goblets high in the salty spra