metamorphhh (aka jim crawford) Poems

In the silent rustling of the evergrass,
the piquant shadows of old dogs run

under the dirt, searching for the boy
...

Up one aisle and down the other,
sampling each product with a lickpenny's economy.
It doesn't grow on trees, you know.
Or so they tell me.
...

"Good sir, " the doctor told me on the morn.
"Like most dilemmas, yours rides on the horn
of vices left unchecked, and now I fear
The only succor left to you is clear.
...

In the hidden lair
behind the planks
plays the music
that stings
...

And when he comes for you how shall I sleep,
Knowing as I do that time unbinds tomorrow from today?
And when he comes for you, when you slip off
Into the folds of threadbare remembrances and trite solace,
...

A Hessian in need of a tonic
Mixed some barbiturates with some chronic.
He stayed up for three days
In a Steppenwolf haze,
...

A bonnie young lass from the isles
Used to woo all the lads with her smiles,
'Til she fell off her horse
(Her puss ruined, of course) .
...

Enter the beetle, the sickening shell
hiding treasures of refuse and solace, as well.
She enters through prospect, and exits through pain,
spinning sugar from gossamer grafts to her brain.
...