Poetry by S. Arthur Murray


I am the sawing noise in the background

Almost fiddle like—

Want something romantic…fine violin

Chewing naked trees, shrubs, you.

I strip you of everything,

Leaving minimal debris and massive dung.

I come to you on malevolent wings

The (un)fairy wings

I am Kali, in insect form,

No? Count my arms.

I can reach you, eat you ,

Nine hands at a time.

No point in repenting now;

I have played you, my lullaby.

The hair shirt, fed the moths….

Succulence for me;

I drink from the living

I am carnivorous, herbivorous, omnivorous…

I take back what you borrowed on my time not yours.

Dust to dust.

The Sword Swallower

The sword-swallower speaks

While eating esophageal impalement

& speaks about the process

The whole while, nonstop

Rattling on about the obsolete process of sword-swallowing,

“This started as a child

With butter knives…

… butter knives crafted by my father’s hand.

Controlling the sword

& more importantly, speaking around it,

That has become my gift.

It is not the actual swallowing

(anyone can do that);

I speak around the sword

Which very few people even attempt;

A few have lost their tongues and fainted.”


About S. Arthur Murray

S. Arthur Murray is a 37-year-old recent transplant to Seattle, studying at Arizona State University. He has recently “revamped” his writing career and has always had great success with poetry.

Murray writes “some say ‘a picture is worth a thousand words.’ However, a writer’s job is the thousand words while a poet’s job is the precision to do it in a hundred.”

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