Wednesday, February 5, 2020


As we were walking up and down
And to and fro below the ground
(As we were wont to do), we found

A makeshift man in tattered dress.
The riddle that he posed we guessed,
Then watched as from his soulless rest

He stirred. Like lights, his eyes came on.
Our very own automaton:
He fought for us, for he was strong.

Wednesday, January 29, 2020

Stocking the Dungeon

Statistically, the likelihood a room 
Was anything but empty wasn’t good, 
And if it wasn’t, chances were it would 
Be something dumb like rats, or copper strewn 
Upon the floor — dropped there (so we assumed)
By real adventurers, who understood 
They weren’t even worth the time it took 
To write them on your character sheet. Soon, 
We learned unless we wanted to be bored 
To tears, such rules were better off ignored. 

From then on, every room contained at least 
One interesting thing — a crumpled piece
Of paper with a cryptic message; one 
Mailed glove; a bauble with a tiny sun 
Trapped in the center, good for candlelight. 
The rules lawyer will say the rules are right: 
Most doors do open onto empty days, 
A pittance, rats — but that’s no way to play. 

Monday, January 20, 2020


A kind of clever candlestick that sheds 
A light that lingers when its own has fled.