I hear the wild birds
sing beneath my skin.
Too many bitten souls,
walking by, bursting
is an avalanche, pouring
through the darkness: a dry ocean
inside the clouds.
Life is so generous
with its gifts, but these hands
like razors slaughter the sky
Bare feet on grass,
feels only the stones.
Who craves the perished sun? Do I?
Do I love for nothing but death?
To be blinded by ecstasy,
to feel the tears of wonder flow
to hunt for the colossal Self . . .
I walk through the dust-ridden morn.
The wind splits my shell:
It enters. It knows
Copyright © 1995 by Allison Grayhurst
Published in “Chicago Record Magazine” June 2017
You can listen to the poem by clicking below:
“Somewhere Falling has a richness of imagery and an intensity of emotion rare in contemporary poetry. Drawn in sharp outlines of light and darkness, and rich shades of colour, with a deep sense of loss and longing and the possibility of salvation, this is an unusual book by a gifted young poet. Grayhurst’s voice is one to which we should continue to pay attention.” — Maggie Helwig, author of Apocalypse Jazz and Eating Glass.
“Responsibility and passion don’t often go together, especially in the work of a young poet. Allison Grayhurst combines them in audacious ways. Somewhere Falling is a grave, yet sensuous book.” – Mark Abley, author of Glasburyon and Blue Sand, Blue Moon.
“Biting into the clouds and bones of desire and devotion, love and grief, Allison Grayhurst basks the reader, with breathtaking eloquence, in an elixir of words. Like lace, the elegance is revealed by what isn’t said. This is stunning poetry.” – Angela Hryniuk, author of no visual scars.
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