Sometimes Were Like Crippling Critters Cursed To Crawl

Poems that are harrowing and painful, they dig deep into your unconscious.

Kyle Tasch's poems are filled with beautiful and harrowing images that are playfully intertwined with the beat and soul of each verse. His use of language and rhythm flows and digs deep into our consciousness as we read every word.


Young fox by the chicken shack,

Ain’t a fowl to go around.

Not a minute til it’s looking back,

In an old Kentucky town.

Through the blue hills up and down,

We’re all lookin’ for the train.

I see the whistle I don’t hear the sound.

Can’t do too much in the rain.

Pull over in your motor car,

It’s about half past noon.

Can’t keep lookin’ for the morning star,

When there ain’t no moon.

Hawk hanging like a parachute,

Bet he’ll never find a mouse.

He’s half blind and dumb to boot,

Always flyin’ ‘round the house.

Motor starts by the interstate,

We’re outta gas but we’ll try.

The county gone and took my ride away,

And they just keep on passing by.


Rats riddled with raucous ramblings,

Write their ways; world notwithstanding.

Coining qualms that can confine,

Laying language on the line.

Scurrying scantily from twisted traps,

They trip and try to skim your scrap.

Here and honing, clearly cloning,

Jurassic classics stored in sap.

Flowing flaps pack power naps,

Flailing freely fails.

Rainbow reds and yonder yellows,

Wimper while the bearer bellows.

Spirits spilling speckled spots,

Skip the scales, wait and rot.

Stinky stenches stemmed from hedges,

Fillers find forgot.

The things that thaw the thieves, they thank;

Crippling critters cursed to crawl.

Trouble’s cost: double crossed,

Along a lane alone and lost.


Photos by Lukasz Wierzbowski.