The Hyrofant
There is a thing that, unannounced,
Comes drifting through the air.
It has no wings, nor mouth, nor eyes,
Only ashen, bristly hair —
And smiling, ever sighs.
It has no name that goes pronounced,
Though it knows of all attempts.
When children make of it a game,
It grants them just a glimpse —
Then steals the child’s name.
All nameless youth do wish renounced
Their callow choices made —
For a nameless child is quickly lost,
And from the world they start to fade.
Too late they learn the cost.
And all the while the Hyrofant
Goes drifting on stale winds,
Led by sightless, bloodless sense
To where children’s play begins.
The Mistagogs
While humans sleep, the grey ones creep,
And in the deep their trophies keep.
Our lamps alight keep out the night;
With songs of might we stave off fright.
But out this door, with deadened roar,
The scent of gore steals off the moor.
There, Mistagogs, with skin like frogs,
Slink through their bogs in sickly fogs.
And, crawling near, just out of ear,
From fetid mere, they’ll find you here.
And should you try to catch their eye,
Or chase their cry where shadows lie,
You’ll not return with what you learn.
For home you’ll yearn, and try to turn,
But in the gloom, midst haze and fume,
In dampened tomb, you’ll find your doom.
About the Author
Talbot Hook is a Ph.D. candidate and occasional writer currently living in Connecticut.
About the Artist
Hailing from the Chicago suburbs, 27 Rats is heavily inspired by the comics and cartoons he lived in growing up. Artists such as Jack Kirby, Bryan Lee O'Malley, Mike Mignola, and Akira Toriyama are strong influences on his work. 27 Rats is on a never-ending journey to create fresh art that calls back to the creators that inform his work.
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