Saltwater Sprint

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        A returning dream ruffled in my shell,

opening intermittent passages of discovering.

Crossbreezes and singular infinity,

by death and dying you buy me whole.

        The slug’s flesh merges miraculously with

the curve of a leaf – white pink on green, more potent

than a drop-cliff, than rebellion.

        Stroking the skin of tree, I end up here, in the morning,

with the nesting squirrels collecting torn newspapers, swaying

with the telephone wires. Brilliance plays like chords

on the brink of chaos, almost fracturing sanity.

Suspended firm like a branch over traffic,

I hear riffs like cars arrive then leave.

        Sleep, little lilac near the fence, I have learned

determination can solve most problems. Tomorrow I will make

the final break, orbit beyond the periphery of natural selection.

        God, scoop me up in your cone, don’t

let me doubt your goodness. If you are here,

I am living, I can let slip what I am capable of,

create origami with infants and animals.

I can climb the steps of any probability

just to feel you press up against my rigidity,

purify with kneading pressure

a hard illumination.

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Copyright  © 2012 by Allison Grayhurst

amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

http://barometricpressures.blogspot.ca/2014/10/surrogate-dharma-allision-grayhurst.html?spref=fb

https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B-DuKJaq66ClMlFIWWU5cTY2RTQ/view

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First published in “Chicago Record Magazine”, 2014

http://magazine-record.blogspot.ca/

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You can listen to the poem by clicking below:

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The fault of sages

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      Love was there

spreading hope like jam over my taste buds.

Then the first skipping rope broke,

got snared on a fence and frayed.

I stole away on a subway train where

hundreds have gone walking into a warzone.

      Amen to the end and the predator’s

happy-go-lucky disposition. One claw,

one tentacle, in flowing precise motion.

Another lifetime and it may be different,

tender as lovers beneath their first full moon,

or worse, like cartilage deteriorating.

      I rehearsed a familiar pattern,

sabotaging memories to find a way to be holy,

to make only God matter, dismantling adult days

of calculation, days of stultifying impulses,

of consciously unplugging the push of inspiration.

      I flicked the splinter and loosened its stem, learning

that every homecoming is different – some shed

their most treasured members, others,

an accommodating persona. Still others constrict

just to pitch thought and become a pulse.

      Love I lifted like a heavy stone,

trying to grow flowers between sparrows’ toes

where they nested and puffed up under eavestroughs,

trying to weave myself an escape in the shade,

a carpet to lie back on.         

      Solutions were bare,

offered crossword puzzle satisfaction

but no retreat from passengers staring

and the continuous stab of uncertainty.

      Templates I now break and breathe and blow all away

into the sandalwood spring, into the eyes of my dog.

      Stiff joints lend themselves to patience,

planting wings in my palm – empty spaces finally

accepted. Shadows I see take on a life of their own

and keep dancing. God I see in the sloping deformity

of all steps climbed, treacherously taken, born whole

from parallel paths of lack and yearning.

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.Copyright  © 2012 by Allison Grayhurst

amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

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First published in “The Furious Gazelle” June 2015

http://thefuriousgazelle.com/2015/06/16/allison-grayhurst/

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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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