the Return of Rynn Jyuck, Master of the Vortex


The old man crawls out of the shallow cave
‘How long have I slept under this rock?’
he asks himself

The younger voice dreadfully cheerful

‘How the hell did I get this way?’
The old man’s voice is dry and sandy

Stand and come forth’


‘The Orb of Hope transcends to the Apex
It has slipped into the World
through the Crack in the sky
the Horizon. . .’
the young man is annoyingly articulate

‘What are you talking about?’

‘The Sister of the Orb
has relinquished her. . .’

‘Hold it!’
the old man interupts

but the younng man charges right on
‘And the flecks of diamond. . .’

‘I said HOLD IT!’


‘Who are you and what do you want?

The young man bows
‘I am but a simple scribe
sent to call you back from the Earth
As per your request long past.’

‘When? I remember no such thing.’

‘Master, you have been here a very long time.’

the old man stretches
‘I feel it
You got any water?’

‘Yes, Master
and some toast with orange marmalade.’



I dreamed I held Dawn’s Left Hand

She opened across a dismal grey horizon
bleeding light and color back into the world

The Darkness receded but did not yield
The roots of dark had grown into my flesh
such that a part of the ever night clung to me

The only way it could hold to me
and avert the ripening young sun
was to hide on me
to become a shadow

I dreamed I beheld Dawn’s golden hair
drifting, nimbus like, around her visage
and I knew if I did not look away
her increasing glory
would surely blind me

I turned to the West
and she caressed my shoulders
my back
my hair. . .

I dreamed the Night had left me
to learn all the things this Day
had to teach me


The Naming of the Gryflix

“So son, they call you Beetle Shaug?”

“We can stop here to rest, if you like.
I have more vittles. . .
Some nice fowl.”

“Is your name Beetle Shaug?”

“Yes, though I prefer to go by the moniker ‘Aryan’.”

“Master at Arms?”

“Well. . . yes.”

“It would seem there is more to you
than meets the eye young Tyro.
I knew Aryan, a very long time ago.”

What was that like?”

“Why did they send you. . .?
I must name you.
Close your eyes son.
Yes, like that
Without looking
tell me the name of the creature
the one peeking at us from the wood-line?”


“Close your eyes.”

“There is nothing out there.”

“You better tell me before it nips your nose.”

There comes a crashing sound
could have been a stone thrown by the old man
or it could have been. . .

“A Gryflix.
A Gryflix comes.”

Open your eyes
I shall call you Gryf.”

“Not certain I like that name.”

“You like it better than Beetle?”

“Well, yes
But. . .”

“Gryf it shall be.
Why did they send you?”

“Tyros of Institute
have treked to the Cavern for hundreds of years.”

“But, why you?”

“It was my turn.”

“We’re gonna get along just fine Gryf.”


On the Bluff Overlooking Institute

The boy
He seems reluctant to walk down
now that we are overlooking Institute

He will not meet my eye
seems not to hear my questions
and is otherwise distracted

What does such a suffering face tell me of New Man?
My thoughtful soul
freshly returned from silent solitude troubles me on his behalf

“Breath deep son
Suspire the Wonder of this World. . .”

“Master. . .”

“Yes, Tyro?”

“They have no idea you are coming
and not everyone will be pleased. . .
with me.”

And I laugh for the first time in ages
“Hell, son
Same as it was
Same as it ever shall be.”

“Dewlar and Frdii
They said
the reason I got picked for checking your Cavern
is because no one wants me around.”

“Non sense
A fine young apprentice like you?”


I step to him
Take hold of his head and hold his eye
“Yes son
I take you as my Tyro.”
He is shaking

Hold it together son
hold it together
We have to get thorough this

Do you swear to obey me in all things?”
Don’t shake your head
Say it son.”

“You don’t want me. . .”

You will not tell me what I want and don’t
You will tell me if you chose to obey me as your master”

Oh yes Master Rynn Jyuck.”

“Then let it be known hence that this young man is now
Gryflix Tyro Jyuck
This man is my acknowledged apprentice in accord with the Old Ways”

I can feel the Sky, Earth and Water watching
This is a right thing and well done
I clap my hands and rain clouds form in the distance

a right thing and well done




this is the beginning of an epic

more to come




this is the beginning of an epic

When Came the Wind Sharks

The wind sharks gathered, schooled
Turned just beyond that building
And wheeled over our heads

Who can blame them?
After all we created them to be this way
I was one of the research coordinators

They wheeled and those of us
Who had forgotten how to scream
Forgotten how to run . . . they cut through us like
Flying knives through hot butter

The kids did great
They knew how to scream and run


The Chyfrin stands in the debris of a house destroyed
A man neither tall nor short
Not heavy nor slim
A man clothed in hues of grey and darkness

Foundation stones
Bits of wall and window
So. . . so very human a thing

What idiot thought it a good idea to bring a human house to this place?

This world so far from. . .
What was that place?
so far from Earth

The Chyfrin stands stone still in the silence
A newborn zephyr stirs
He lifts a hand and says “Peace gentle one.”
and the wind lays down

This was the large room where he used to read books
This was the place of eating
and this was where his child-like mind sailed on oceans of dream

This was where his friend Thom stood asking him to fly on their ship
They were going to go beyond the sky and find a place where peace had a chance
Over there. . .
That’s where the Chyfrin buried the piece of their ship that was bequeathed him

Memories and shades beg to be born
beg to frolic and gambol in the fading crimson light of the setting sun
With a wave of his hand he grants the wind permission
and memories dance

The Chyfrin stands in the debris of a house destroyed
A man surrounded by ghosts and portents
A man barely a man anymore
A man clothed in hues of grey and darkness

The Binder and the Dark-spawn

Jenelle is sleeping on the couch. I sit in the chair, right beside her head.
Her demon is running back and forth across the back of the couch. It does that a lot when it’s bored.
It is a slither of smoke with oversized paws that conceal nasty little claws. I have seen it for as long as I have known her. It is my small talent/curse.
It’s time I spoke to it directly. The myst that makes me demon-proof is kinda thick and it take a bit of concentration to thin it enough to speak Hesirith. That, and it makes the shielding kinda itchy and cantankerous.
“You. . . on the couch.” It ignores me.
“Shac-akawak-naw wa-tokata. . .” That gets its attention.
My hand is on her arm before it can get back into her. “Sorry, old sport, but no.”
If it dissipates, then problem solved, one less of its kind.
It decides to try attacking me. Bad choice. The shielding holds. They hate it when I laugh at them.
By its actions it has created a relationship with me. I reach through the connection and grab it by the underside. They really hate that.
An hour of really pointless struggle ensues and the dark-spawn starts to run down. It can’t feed on either of us and I’m not letting it out, so its starving.
It whines for a while; threatens for a while more and at length goes silent.
“Now, little pup, I am sure you have heard of Binders. Yeah, it’s like that. I am gonna make a deal. Either you dissipate and leave this plane for all eternity or I bind you to something inanimate and throw it into the ocean.”
It tries to bite my face. I sigh.
“Son this is pointless,” and I find the part of me that does the binding.
The creatures speaks, “Hold thy hand. Lest you in haste bring a misfortune to all concerned.”
“You mean Jenelle?”
“She summoned me and in exchange for the gifts she gives me I provide her with. . . entertainments.”
“About that, I don’t care, leave now or be bound and learn to entertain fish.”
“You insolent human, if you knew of my master. . .”
“I am the Keewah of Sultac, Binder of Nethers and Dark-spawn. I am the Fear-god of your fathers and your master fears me. Stop the rhetoric and decide your fate.”
“She needs me. . .”
“No, she doesn’t.”
And it is gone, choosing dissipation above binding. Eh’.
Jenelle awakes and is dulled by the experience.

Within an hour she has thrown me out of the apartment. The last thing she said to me before throwing her cell phone out the window was, “How can I write now! I needed that inspiration if I’m ever do anything worth a crap. You did this to me, and I hate you! Never come back!”

So, I guess its true, you must be careful when you throw out a demon, that you don’t throw away the best part. . .

A Dragon and a Fire Angel Turn up in a Bar ~ D’l Kyrug

The Silver dragon says
“And so fair fire-angel
what has happened to your wings?”

“They got stuck in the gates
whilst I was trying to escape the forbidden gardens of desire”

“Hon, that has got to hurt
Not unlike the time I got my tail caught
in the tilt-o-whirl of love”

Nodding agreement the fire angel remains silent
swimming deep currents of memory in her thoughts

The Silver Dragon stamps his foot
shouts, “The Service in this place leaves a lot to be desired
Can”t a dragon get a drink in this dump?”

The fire angel turns towards him, eyes lowered
and hands him a silver mug with potent red wine
He looks confused but takes the proffered cup with appropriate reverence
and mumbles something in dragon
“You are One So Rare
most hallowed and revered. . .
When did you start tending bar?”

But out loud he says
“Thank you m”Lady
and may the day of your healing be hastened”
then he breaths fire across the beverage
The vapors spill over
Cause a fog to rise around all the patrons of the place
Most don’t seem to care
and the rest are smart enough to know better

He drinks deep
as only dragons are prone drink

Alive, the Breaking of Day ~ D’l Kyrug

or is it only the fever speaking to my sickened mind?

in tired eyes
and mist covers the lake
as shivers take my body once again

Choirs of angels
chorus of demons
deep harmonics of infrared and razor sharp ultraviolets. . .
Rainbows dance in the coming sun
I am weary
bleary and. . . strangely alive

Yes. . .
Oh yeah. . .
Let’s just sit here a bit

holding on to my back
slipping around behind me
at the speed of dark
leaving its roots in shadows on me

Daybreak pours across the Face of the East
Golden liquid honey
cascading into my face, hands and
Night retreats to the West

Oddly. . .
The cool of the Darkness
adds to the comfort of the Dawning Light


A glistening, glittering spider’s web touches everything
An array of light and shadow. . .
and somehow beyond understanding
I am alive


T’alcydon – Teacher of Metamorphs

T’alcydon is a very clever . . .
Well he’s a dragon at the moment
In this particular pocket ‘verse called Easalin
T’alcydon can be a very clever teacher
a very clever Rukesayer

of the young Metamorphs
the young Tyros
He has walked the Seven pathways
Has Spoken the one True Tongue
Has known the whip of Light
and the Ice of Darkness

T’alcydon knows
That not all actors are metamorphs
But all metamorphs are actors
Knows that the problem of the metamorph
Is that you never really know
your own True nature
Never really know
if you’re faking
He Knows
That young metamorphs
are the most dangerous

He knows this
And loves them . . .
every one