Lord of Creation

This is an excerpt from my long poem, “The Death of the Bird King.” The book is available here.

The Bird King’s pregnancy is an unpleasant experience. He gags, scowls,
knotted up with the coiled
feasting inside him.


You should see the Bird King feeding his young: a touching sight!
He pukes up a porridge
of dogs’ heads and human limbs.
Razor mouths guzzle.


The Bird King’s first son and heir
is a wretched amalgam
of scales tusks
saliva hunger.

His useless wings twitch when he’s angry.


The Bird King plays God,
shaping an Adam,
an Eve,
from mud,
rotten bark,
crushed animals.

Adam has red eyes and burbles disconsolately.
Eve howls, cavorts and farts.

But the Bird King’s favourite creation is his lab-grown homunculus,
a miniature parody of its maker.
It doesn’t grow.
It’s barely a maggot.
The Bird King pets it and kisses it, hisses it to playful madness.

All texts and images on this site are the copyright of James Knight. All rights reserved.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s