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Benjamin Blake

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The Susurration of Pines

By Benjamin Blake  

Shadows coalesce in splendor. 

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The Witching Hour

By Benjamin Blake  

Cobblestone streets
Weaving through dense fog
No sound save for the footfalls
That echo with each step

A doorway sits in shadow
Tendrils of mist
Twisting like searching fingertips
A brass knocker sits in wolf’s maw
Waiting for that fateful touch
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Popular Posts

  • Dime Store Poetry
    Benjamin Blake offers up an extremely personal collection of poetry for Secret History Books . Heartbreak and loss, cigarettes smoked and...
  • All the Feral Dogs of Los Angeles
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    The monolith stood before us. It's sudden and unexpected appearance in the woodland clearing, more than a little disconcerting. 
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  • The Night I Drank with Charles Bukowski’s Ghost
    Read 'The Night I Drank with Charles Bukowski's Ghost' in Horror Sleaze Trash .
  • An Isolated Prayer
    Awash with gilded light.
  • Another Small Town Church
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    An uncharacteristically stormy summer night Crawled in without warning Rattling the window frames And wrenching leaves from wind-whip...
  • The Sunrise Over Burial Grounds
  • Strange, The Way the Sentences Seem to Scatter like Boneyard Leaves in the October Wind
    We were dead wrong.
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