Into faery-lands eager led – 
no shade of apprehensive dread,
nor dawdling outside the toadstool-
ring.

I wish to see the king – 
lusty lord of subterrene night.
Under-realms of unreal delights
sing

fiery in my blood,
mind haunted by unhallowed
melody, tongue bright with mead’s
desire.

Brazen,
I go down into the mound:
sounds of revelry rend my soul,
fey bells ringing in uncouth atonal
choir.

Dirt floods nostrils robust
with aroma of resinated wines,
cruel mirth echoing in each earth-gobbed
ear:

I gasp
as soil seals greedily
in my chthonic wake, mud now
my blood, pebble for eye & root for
bier.

***

I, too, lie at rest here,
singing sylvan songs to draw
dreamers near.

[Scott J. Couturier is a Rhysling-nominated poet and prose writer of the weird, liminal, and darkly fantastic. His work has appeared in numerous venues, including The Audient Void, Spectral Realms, Tales from the Magician’s Skull, Space and Time Magazine, Cosmic Horror Monthly, and Weirdbook; his collection of Weird fiction, The Box, is available from Hybrid Sequence Media, while his collection of autumnal & folk horror verse, I Awaken In October, is available from Jackanapes Press. Currently he works as a copy and content editor for Mission Point Press, living an obscure reverie in the wilds of northern Michigan with his partner/live-in editor and two cats.]