December Belongs To Cthulhu

I Speak Fluent Giraffe: Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Night-Gaunt

Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Night-Gaunt

Among innumerable mountains of madness,
The only moving thing
Was the tail of the night-gaunt.

I was of three minds,
Like a madman
Tickled by three night-gaunts.

The night-gaunt whirled in the Ngranek winds.
It was a small part of the Dreamlands.

A man and a woman
Are one.
A man and a woman and a night-gaunt…

I do not know which to prefer,
The haunter of the dark,
Or the horror at Red Hook,
The night-gaunt writhing
Or just after.

Dusk filled the perilous eyrie
With daemonic damp.
The shadow of the night-gaunt
Crossed it, to and fro.
The mood
Traced in the shadow
An indecipherable cause.

O thin men of Kingsport,
Why do you dream of white mist?
Do you not see how the night-gaunt
Lurks around the caves
Of the hoary form of Nodens?

I know yellow masks
And putrid, inescapable flute-sounds;
But I know, too,
That the night-gaunt is involved
In what I know.

When the night-gaunt flew out of sight,
It marked the edge
Of one of many Zoog rings.

At the sight of night-gaunts
Flying in a green light,
Even the dholes of Pnath
Would wax emphatic.

He rode over Baharna
In a tethered zebra.
Once, a fear pierced him,
In that he mistook
The wings of some insect
For night-gaunts.

The Skai is moving.
The night-gaunt must be plunging.

It was evening all eternity.
It was dank
And it was getting dank.
The night-gaunt whirled
In the primal mist.

Illustration by Brian Elig.
(Click on image above to see at full scale.)

For more, see the I Speak Fluent Giraffe Index.


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