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Page history last edited by PBworks 15 years, 9 months ago





Dog Chain


The Day of Pure Blood

was a gift of the Seven

from their tombs of sand.

Fortune was a river

the glory a gift of the Seven

that flowed yellow and crimson

across the day


Dog Chain


(DG, UK MMPB, p.758)


I saw the sun's bolt

arc an unerring path

to the man's forehead.

As it struck, the crows

converged like night

drawing breath.


Dog Chain


(DG, UK MMPB, p.860)


Suicidal Poets of Darujhistan


Invisible in all his portions

This thick-skinned thing has borders

Indivisible to every sentinel

Patrolling the geography of

Arbitrary definitions, and yet the

Mountains have ground down

The fires died, and so streams

This motionless strand of sharp

Black sand where I walk

Cutting my path on the coarse

Conclusions countless teeth

Have grated – all lost now

In this unlit dust – we are not

And have never been

The runners green and fresh

Of life risen from the crushed

Severing extinctions (that one past

this one new) all hallowed and self-sure

But the dead strand moves unseen,

The river of black crawls on

To some wistful resolution

The place with no meaning

Inconsequential in absence

Of strings and shadows

Charting from then to now

And these stitched lines

Finding this in that . . .

Excerpt from

The Black Sands of Time

(in the collection Suicidal Poets of Darujhistan)

edited by Haroak

(MT, UK Trade, p.503)



The Casting of the Tiles


The Betrayer stands in the shadow of the Empty Throne.

That is why it is empty.

The Casting of the Tiles

Ceda Parudu Erridict

(MT, UK Trade, p.554)


The Errant bends fate,

As unseen armour

Lifting to blunt the blade

On a field sudden

With battle, and the crowd

Jostles blind their eyes gouged out

By the strait of these affairs

Where dark fools dance on tiles

And chance rides a spear

With red bronze

To spit worlds like skulls

One upon the other

Until the seas pour down

To thicken metal-clad hands

So this then is the Errant

Who guides every fate


Upon the breast of men.

The Casting of Tiles

Ceda Ankaran Qan (1059 Burn’s Sleep)

(MT, UK Trade, p.153)

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