The Howling Owl
Published in

The Howling Owl


Evening Run on All Hallows’ Eve

a spur of the moment poem

I glide through darkness —
tracing familiar terrain turned exotic
by undulating hills of fallen-raked leaves
now so many itinerant arabesque sand dunes
I pass zeals of zombies, murders of mummies
sleuths of superheroes, pods of princesses
and, bloodcurdlingest of all, throngs of
teenagers with heads convincingly



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Joe Váradi

Editor of No Crime in Rhymin' and Language Lab | ..."come for the sarcasm, stay for my soft side"