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# Untitled
- URL: https://www.fsm.ink/untitled/
- Published: 2026-04-08T18:02:59.000Z
- Updated: 2026-06-03T17:39:54.000Z
- Author: Staff
- Tags: Poetry, #Import 2026-08-03 09:59

*by Ian Schebel*

The Mares of Diomedes have gathered to laugh in the face of truth  
White waves hiss on the rocks  
Throats like pilot-lights  
Their cackles face the population  
Who do not eat human flesh  
or breath fire  
  
I am that population  
who do not see the joke  
but see, waves growing like children  
They are big now  
and they make big sounds  
Just like that  
  
We think to know who they are  
And very hard  
As we itch the bottom of our feet  
And wipe off the déjà vu sand  
That will sink us all the way up  
to the tips of our tongues

> ian schebel is an artist living quietly in Sheboygan.