Thomas Wiloch writes marvelous poems and prose vignettes like this:

THE GARDEN'S GIFT
She came back from the garden with a single red rose in her hand. The long stem was studded with thorns. "For you," she said with a hint of a smile, and before I could thank her, she pressed the thorns against my face until they drew a sprinkling of blood. Only years later did I realize the single, sad word she had cut into me.

and this:

MEMENTOS
She collects mementos from the beach: a seashell, some driftwood, a bit of coral. Her room is a museum of what the ocean brings forth from within its hidden depths.
"In like fashion," she muses, "I also bring forth strange icons from within my soul to be displayed before the world." And her fingers played with the pearls of her necklace, the diamonds on her fingers, the gaudy baubles of her dangling earrings.

He has a book called MR.TEMPLETON'S TOY SHOP and a couple more poems appear in the August '05 GOTHIC REVUE here: http://tinyurl.com/b7d7x
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