So, for now  in appreciation to the fesitval in Portland, I’ll post a bit of the “Ghoul’s” seductive verse from the  recent publication of my story The Recruiter ( Ellen Datlow’s collection H.P. Lovecraft Unbound):

Where the lich in the loam has lain mouldering long

And the maggoty minutes gnaw the meat off his bones,

There Time is a monster that mows down the throng

Of once-have-been, gone-again featureless drones.

But the living dead’s doorways–once opened–gape wider.

There you may go where the galaxies sprawl,

And climb through the star-web as nimble as spiders,

And dart quick as rats through Time’s ceilings and walls.

Best,

Michael