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Halos, by Tobias Seamon (7/11/05)
halos once emanated above every human head
We Asked, by Tobias Seamon (1/24/05)
We asked for a tyrant
Near Life Experience, by Tobias Seamon (4/19/04)
"What was it like?" / family, friends whispered, / shoulders and chins bent close, / as though speaking lowly would diminish / their ghoulish curiosity.
Letter from the Old World, by Tobias Seamon (2/2/04)
The poets, as usual drape themselves across / the gravestones, mewing flirtatious threats towards / their intended.
A Daybook of Devils, by Tobias Seamon (1/12/04)
Monday: / St. Valentine's Devil coyly seals / stamps to scented envelopes, posting / missives of hidden love for strangers: / secret admirer to the all-alone.
Deities, by Tobias Seamon (10/13/03)
and so is the cat, black / fur coating the chairs, sinking / into the places he's torn in the fabric
Quasimodo Takes the Grand Tour, by Tobias Seamon (9/15/03)
Beginning in Dublin, where the whale-lanes end. Below / the Trinity belltower, Stephen's Green, where the / citizens like August dogs stretched under a flurry of / sun. I climbed the steeple, rang the bells. On the / Green, a few books were shut, fewer eyes opened.
The Siren of Ocean City, by Tobias Seamon, illustration by Chris Whitlow (8/4/03)
Halfway home from the war but unable to take another step closer, I'd stomp through the sands at dusk, imagining I was Odysseus. Not the clever hero at the gates of Troy, but the wrecked Odysseus, the one trapped in strange places as he forgot his own name.