I moved like a moon

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I moved like a moon

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in predictable orbit, smashed

by meteors, space pebbles

meeting my surface with deep impact, when

there were dark oceans under my skin, unseen

single forms, coupled forms, and beds of

colourless weeds, but I steadied myself

on the cold shell of repetitive expectations –

dead valleys here, dead heights there.

 

Going through the hard crust, under, into

a thicker atmosphere, currents of heaviness,

breaking barriers better off broken.

Haunted by shapes that come close and rarely touch,

in this weighted environment, by-passing predator

tentacles and jaws by instinct alone, no journey-map,

stars or horizon to act as goal or inspiration, but

 

rolling

through cross-waves with creatures captured

by a dark density like

myself, shaded, loose at the extremities, compact

at the core, thriving on plateaus of deep pressure,

salty flavours all around – so far gone from walking

that legs leave, replaced by fins, and language is not

sound, but a full-body resonance – no delay

between appetite and attainment.

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Copyright © 2014 by Allison Grayhurst

Walkways cover 2

amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

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First published in “The Bitchin’ Kitsch”

 

http://www.talbot-heindl.com/aug2014

http://www.talbot-heindl.com/moon

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Click to access 20151023No_Raft_No_Ocean_by_Allison_Grayhurst.pdf

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http://scars.tv/cgi-bin/framesmain.pl?writers

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.You can listen to the poem by clicking below:

https://allisongrayhurst.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/07/i-moved-like-a-moon1.m4a?_=1

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“Her (Allison Grayhurst’s) poetry appears visceral, not for the faint of heart, and moves forward with a dynamism, with a frenetic pulse. If you seek the truth, the physical blood and bones, then, by all means, open the world into which we were all born,” Anne Burke, poet, regional representative for Alberta on the League of Canadian Poets’ Council, and chair of the Feminist Caucus.

“What a treasure Allison Grayhurst is. Her gift? To unfold for us life at this intensity of feeling and revelation. Who knew truth and beauty could be so intertwined and so passionate?,” Taylor Jane Green BA, RIHR, CH, Registered Holistic Talk Therapist, and author of Swan Wheeler: A North American Mythology, Swan – A Planetary Mythology, and The Rise of Eros, 2014.

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3 responses to “I moved like a moon

  1. davidstrachan611 – Scotland – That's me being hauled up the stony path of reality against my will and that's me too, boat against the current, on the Seine, with the love of my life (but not me of hers alas alas). That's me. And that's me walking on water. Likes? Dislikes? I have always liked Andrew Wyeth, Hopper, Kafka, Anthony Gormley, Beethoven's Late Quartets, the Brontes, Eric Cantona, both Richard Burtons, Tracey Solomon, Brel, Jane Austen, Cartier-Bresson, Glendronach, Highland Park, though not necessarily in that order. I find Rob Bryden Steve Coogan Ricky Gervais Russel Brand Larry David Garry Shandling very funny - La Strada is still my favourite film, Empire of the Sun also - Pity about Woody Allen. J.D. Salinger's short stories still impress - 'Just before the war with the Eskimos' -great title! Peter Cameron's 'One Way or Another' I've reread and reread. And Eleanor Bron's 'Life and Other Punctures' is again one of the books I still reread with constant affection. And Chekhov. And Kafka. And Carver.. Politically I like Cesar Manrique, the polymath caring creator of Lanzarote sadly killed in a car crash on the roundabout a mile from his specatacular lava-bubble home.I used to be revolutionary now I' more evolutionary. Didn't like Blair, changed my mind about Maggie Thatcher, despair of Scottish football and Scottish politics.. One day I'll fly away.... it says below: 'Tell people a little about yourself'....has this little been enough? Too much? Tell me a little about yourself - or a lot...... )
    davidstrachan611 says:

    …reminds me of the G.M. Hopkins poem – ‘The mind has mountains, cliffs of fall…’

  2. This is a brilliantly written poem. Wow, the imagery, the feeling…

    I remember experiencing exactly this, and there was a comfort in the awareness and acceptance of it:

    “but I steadied myself
    on the cold shell of repetitive expectations –
    dead valleys here, dead heights there”

    I lived years like this, incredible to pull this off as if by grace, as if by trial, as if by test:

    “by-passing predator
    tentacles and jaws by instinct alone, no journey-map,
    stars or horizon to act as goal or inspiration

    This is the best feeling description and insight into the might and depth and intrigue of underwater sea creatures I have ever encountered:

    “rolling
    through cross-waves with creatures captured
    by a dark density like
    myself, shaded, loose at the extremities, compact
    at the core, thriving on plateaus of deep pressure,
    salty flavours all around – so far gone from walking
    that legs leave, replaced by fins, and language is not
    sound, but a full-body resonance”

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