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Past-Caskets

by Johnny Crimson

Crevice-diving
pocket-watch.
The meal-worm glides
through jagged Earth.
His filter is the sun,
from science to sideways
he rides the tide of resistance.

Crater-laden
bedpan watchmen.
Drip do their words
on the whore's throat.
Painting eyes where a mouth should be.
Always fogging the rear-view mirror.

Alice-pursuant
able-antibodies.
Choke on the past
what strokes weren't made.
She'll dangle-tongue
slip into herself in the night.

Arrest-harvester
damaged-casket.
Had to wake her
rest is for the stricken.
Tongue glided through the crevice foretold.
Now I'm stuck in this eternal night, in such close quarters.

12/01/2011

Posted on 12/02/2011
Copyright © 2022 Johnny Crimson

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Shannon McEwen on 12/02/11 at 02:32 PM

particularly love the last two lines of the poem.

Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 12/02/11 at 03:59 PM

Good contrast to the last one. I don't think you're ever going to lose your ability to move across such a wide landscape of ideas and images. Loved this, man.

Posted by Jody Pratt on 12/03/11 at 12:59 AM

I love the last line the best. It was a great finish to an intriguing piece of work. Thanks!

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