Patrick Frazier Poems

Evil attempts to mirror creation
In many illusive manifestations
His uncommon emotions circulate as often as his thoughts
The mind lending them images before sleep
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There is a librarian in my sleep
A jovial lady
Who specializes in ancestry
She has a spyglass
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In a chamber of prophetic men
Dressed in black
One after the other
Dead on their backs
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An imp spent the night in my dreams
Hatching subluniary schemes
Tricking me into singing old songs
And going down roads of forgotten wrongs
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The blue crystal caves
Beneath heaven's waves
Where many a supernatural fisherman bathes
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Creatures with wings before ancient kings
Hands lifting a colossal snake
A mastodon's jaw with its eerily human shape
Caught in a massive hollow gaze
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The birth of a primitive before his bone structure
Will allow him to stand
With the light in his mouth
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I saw the ghost of Jesus
On Madison avenue
I asked him for a dollar
He kindly obliged
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The fiddler picked up his bow
He had promised you a show

The writer ate a peach in her mind
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How long must I live in disgrace?
The blistering madness of this place
I am two beings sharing one body
The demon is whispering behind my eyes:
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