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The Poems


Ah, the barren white wasteland of an "under construction" page. I'll be working on this extensively in the near future, just as soon as I can figure out what layout I want. Until then, I might as well give you the poem from which the title of this website comes. Here it is:

Fantasies of a Maniac

No face: swatches in silhouette
eyes peering from the darkness of an alleyway
alit in the soft glow
of the arc-sodium streetlights above
there is a small noise from behing
and
he sees the helpless wreck of
a dog
shivering and dripping with rainwater
of a previous storm
he sees
but does not
he seems to notice a snarl and
a carnivorous look in its eyes
and its claws are razors
aren't they?
Are they?
So from within his trenchcoat he brings
the cleaver
its blade so clean
he approaches the dog
and the dog stands its ground
is it growling or whimpering
no matter
with one swift maneuver
the dog is Gone
in a lake of maroon
looking down
he seems to recall
the pretty young girl he had seen
by the side of the road
shaking and scared
thumb jutting out to catch the attention
of passing automobiles
he had allowed her into the passenger seat
of his depressing beige Buick
he had allowed her to smoke her cigarette
its glow in the darkness jumping and quivering
and when she had tossed it out the window
he had stopped
…Stopped…
she had no face at the end
he had sent her into the storm
Forever
he can not remember the others
All of the others; so many
He stands for awhile and begins to walk
from the alley
under the arc-sodiums
-- Copyright 1993, Kevin Quigley

More poems to follow...