When not slaying Dragons, Falconhead uses Dragon’s blood to write poetry, short stories and plays. His work has appeared in The Red Line, The Rock River Review, Antiphon, FictionWeek Literary Review, Naugatuck River Review, Outside In Literary & Travel Magazine, Wilde Magazine, Poetry Potion, Foliate Oak Literary Magazine, Thick Jam, Meat for Tea, Poetica Magazine, Camas: The Nature of The West, Thin Air Magazine, Huesoloco Journal, Glitterwolf, Whistling Fire, Two Hawks Quarterly, Rock & Sling, Adanna Literary Journal, Deltona Howl, and Green Wind Press’s “Words Fly Away” Anthology, among others, and is forthcoming in several more publications. For his poem “Man-Made God or Poem In Which The Hypochondriac Gets His Way” Emerge Literary Journal awarded him “runner-up” in their 2014 poetry contest. You can follow Falconhead on Twitter here: https://twitter.com/Falconheadpens
I Have Set My Face Like Flint or The Misanthrope Goes Into Town
For one doesn’t know how much the creature
one is until they are hunting you down. Un-
til you see the clansmen gather around. Sharp-
ening tongues in the palms of their mouths.
Tethering hounds in the mouths of their hands.
Their grinning weapons at the tip of their nails.
The weaker ones carry cameras like guns, and
the others the poisoned arrows that are their
eyes. Laughter. Guise. But I, I am grown from
the blood of myth. I cannot tell you why I lived.
Cannot say why I stumbled out from the womb
of Earth, the cloud of Sky. Why I’ve survived
this long amongst the hunters grim. Only that
when they all have died, I shall go on living.
Their ghosts shall see me in the streets that pave
out this dead forest. The buildings that are my
trees. The gutters that are my streams. For
I have touched the sacrum of Gods, and these
hooves, this fur, these antlers of mine, they are
all made of bark & fire. Stone and mire. And I
shall leave the arrows in me. I shall carry on in
my robe three trees long, gold and red from the
blood of wrongs.