Crystal dark

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sound, woodpecker

foraging, near, nearing

spice

on my fingertips –

relaxed appropriation.

Backpacks and scarcity,

only the Zen flavour

of moving, taking necessities,

giving up newly bought coats

to strangers on buses.

Bus routes going to unexplained territories

vocalizing droning dreams

of the misused, disenfranchised

ruthlessly bored,

cardboard box lifespans

arrows pointing back from the way

you came,

mounds of

silver sorrows, pee-stains

on stones, what is left but dead planets done with

geological formations, never

knowing scattering amoebas, only

knowing failed attempts at rhythm, equilibrium,

rubble,

aftermaths of harsh creation,

pointless rock-globes

spinning

with moons   no signs of summer.

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Copyright © 2015 by Allison Grayhurst

amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

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First published in “Indiana Voice Journal, Issue 10” May 2015

http://www.indianavoicejournal.com/p/blog-page_1367.html

http://www.indianavoicejournal.com/2015/05/indiana-voice-journal-may-2015-issue-10.html

http://www.indianavoicejournal.com/2015/05/allison-grayhurst-three-poems-crystal.html

 

This poem “Crystal Dark” has been nominated for Sundress Publications “Best of the Net” 2015

http://www.indianavoicejournal.com/p/blog-page_74.html

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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:

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“Allison’s poetic prose is insightful, enwrapping, illuminating and brutally truthful. It probes the nature of the human spirit, relationships, spirituality and God. It is sung as the clearest song is sung within a cathedral by choir. It is whispered as faintly as a heartbroken goodbye. It is alive with the life of a thousand birds in flight within the first glint of morning sun. It is as solemn as the sad-sung ballad of a noble death. Read at your peril. You will never look at this world in quite the same way again. Your eye will instinctively search the sky for eagles and scan the dark earth for the slightest movement of smallest ant, your heart will reach for tall mountains, bathe in the most intimate of passions and in the grain and grit of our earth. Such is Allison Grayhurst. Such is her poetry,”  Eric M. Vogt, poet and author.