Mark Gilbert

corridor conversation
my conscience
is killing me

— Mark Gilbert

Mark Gilbert

slice of life
the secret
after show party

— Mark Gilbert

Mark Gilbert

Halloween moon—
showing us only
the dark side

— Mark Gilbert

Mark Gilbert

heads
in a field
no longer in rows

— Mark Gilbert

Mark Gilbert

bolting spinach
the ghost’s
bitter touch

— Mark Gilbert

rusted barbed wire

another twist

of her scrunchie

— Mark Gilbert

Mark Gilbert

questions and answers
the piano wire
sings

— Mark Gilbert

Mark Gilbert

mingling with goths
on street corners
an old haunt

— Mark Gilbert

Mark Gilbert

cross cutting
rapid cuts
even in the fade out

— Mark Gilbert

Mark Gilbert

strings
moments
in the mirror

— Mark Gilbert

Mark Gilbert

scratchings in the ceiling
a bad smell
in the spare room

— Mark Gilbert

Mark Gilbert

beneath the boardwalk
an open-mouthed expression
in the murk

— Mark Gilbert

Mark Gilbert

invite only—
bringing a shovel
to the party

— Mark Gilbert

Mark Gilbert

cutting away
before he closes
his lips

— Mark Gilbert

this verbless

death dance

of the greenbottle

— Mark Gilbert

Mark Gilbert

doom laden
hunched over
his bass

— Mark Gilbert

Mark Gilbert

before the accident
his left hand
could never play Chopin

— Mark Gilbert

on the tourist trail

church gates rattling—

a peal of thunder

— Mark Gilbert

Mark Gilbert

dawn chorus
the undead
are early risers

— Mark Gilbert

Mark Gilbert

a clunk
in the back of the cupboard
the cocoon splits

— Mark Gilbert

a faint wailing

sirens on the wind

perhaps I’m the ghost

— Mark Gilbert

Mark Gilbert

the dead look behind the eyes

— Mark Gilbert

at the windows

the faces of those

who once were neighbors

— Mark Gilbert

Mark Gilbert

horror movie
a shadow
on her lung

— Mark Gilbert

Mark Gilbert

sheet lightning angry spirits

— Mark Gilbert