Eulogy
She ate chicken hearts
still beating, lambs’ brains.
Said it made her healthy.
She got
what she came for,
her brother said
before the trial.
Robert Beveridge
I Have an Embarrassing Story
You’ve beamed over to the wreck
and you scope out
anything that looks
like it might get you a few bucks
for it if you haul it back.
We may not have found much
but we lit a fire in the remnants
of a greenhouse, swapped stories
of more lucrative runs. One of the new
guys talked about hunting cats
in the ruins of a religious apocalypse.
A second talked about the gleam
of firelight off the armor
of a machine pistol in the hands
of an android, the words
that let him live while we traded
thermoses of liquor from worlds
none of the others had ever seen.
Robert Beveridge
Saragun Springs 
Robert
Your poetry creates great mental images. The first makes me think of that ancient royal who drank the blood of young women, the second causes a variety of hell worlds to bloom. The final two lines of that one are fantastic.
Leila
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Short poems of benighted times, the first of a period preceding “the trial” of a woman with foul habits and the second of a coterie of planet ravagers, the latter containing the unspeakable presence of a miserable creature who “talked about hurting cats.” Moody and effective!
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Robert
The sense of IMAGINATION is really strong in these pieces. Life, after all, is imagination if it’s anything.
Your characters are unique and the voice feels subtly iconoclastic.
Your control in the use of language feels both narrative and lyrical!
Dale
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