Flint strikes and sparks from steely eyes
light a tinder sky
the prairie underworld gone up to castles in the air
to lay seige, like the eggs of a salamander
in rings of Promethean verse
recurring incendaries
turned once more to stone (in death
our libations) salut!

Charon takes his pay from your abyss
and in the hollow of his hands a string of pearls
wiser than Solomon Kane
dances a cadenza

guns blazing
the James Gang on flying horses
dive-bomb the ferry shrieking like Ju-87 Stuka
harpies outside the Orpheum theater
in Memphis, TN

a sphinx uploaded in 3D
to snatch the rudder and patrol the Nile
hermaphrodite; death, the blending of a pair
bound in chaps and nylon fibers
for Pluto, god of wealth
confusion to tyrants
and the masses

# # #

Nether-Air Ambush by WC Roberts
originally published in the Fall 2011 print edition



WC Roberts lives in a mobile home up on Bixby Hill, on land that was once the county dump. The only window looks out on a ragged scarecrow standing in a field of straw and dressed in his own discarded clothes. WC dreams of the desert, of finally getting his first television set, and of ravens. Above all, he writes.

For more of WC's work,
visit his Big Pulp author page


This feature and more great
fiction & poetry are available in
Big Pulp Fall 2011:
On the Road from Galilee

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