I don't like Stephen King's writing. It turns out I like his poetry even less.
His poem goes at length to describe the doings and ramblings of The Dark Man, who wanders through desolate scenery, stuff common to King writings. Abandoned circuses, crawling spiders, misshapen scare-crows, etc.
Finally he reaches his destination, abandoned carnival equipment litter a field, a young woman scantily clad touches herself when she sees the Dark Man coming. He kills her. The end.
I just don't understand what people see in Stephen King.
The art here is also not my favorite. It's goopy in a Gammellian way, but not nearly as well done as Stephen Gammell.