River – the song and the poem

 

River – songs from the poetry of Allison Grayhurst

https://dianebarbarash.bandcamp.com/

https://store.cdbaby.com/cd/dianebarbarash3

https://itunes.apple.com/ca/album/river-songs-from-the-poetry-of-allison-grayhurst/id1293420648

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0766X9LDJ/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1507310524&sr=8-1&keywords=diane+barbarash

 

 

The Poem:

 

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River

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I will run my breath across your eyelids,

go to you, trace the edges of your hands,

finding infinity inside your torment. I will

drift into you like wind and you will not mind

my lips like a concentrated shadow on your skin,

darkening but leaving no weight. You will let me

be inside your picture, a background to your lyrics,

softly at first, I will heal the red in the whites of your eyes.

I will release my wardrobe for you and you will be the mania

that I climb through to reach tranquility. I will

cup your flesh and stretch you through this intimacy because

I own you as you own me and it is not a bad thing, not

blasphemy or anything

to fear. It is your hands, mine – these

poignant burial grounds that have been excavated,

these days of standing close, depending upon the ease

of our mutual exposure. I will speak in your ear and you

will step into my voice

like stepping into a river.

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Copyright © 2011 by Allison Grayhurst

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Currents - pastlife poems cover 4 

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First published in “InnerChildPress” 2012

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Seamless – the song and the poem

 

 

River – songs from the poetry of Allison Grayhurst

https://dianebarbarash.bandcamp.com/

https://store.cdbaby.com/cd/dianebarbarash3

https://itunes.apple.com/ca/album/river-songs-from-the-poetry-of-allison-grayhurst/id1293420648

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0766X9LDJ/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1507310524&sr=8-1&keywords=diane+barbarash

 

 

The Poem:

 

 

Seamless      

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    Raincoats and rainy seasons are behind us now.

I picked up a feather.

You took it from me and now it is yours. And just like that,

rich as the coral reef waters, we were initiated into

a lower layer.

    Intensity is a button. It is concentration – one part,

one of your parts unrelentingly explored

while ignoring other

distracting sensations. It is the thick blood

raking of thighs against our lesser faith.

    Fears of the future put aside and left to their weeping.

Shoulders become secrets receiving

probing pressure-point intrusions.

Like a primeval working of strings,

through this communication, we see

the courage of our history rise, become an advancing truth,

and our pores

grow and sparkle like thousands of tiny sun-drenched ants

pooling together to parallel a single purpose.

    We know ‘just survival’ is tyranny.

What we seek is not movement

purely for the sake of employment, but to create canvases

of vigorous struggles – ones that can only be cemented

in unison.

    Our bodies have abandoned their blood-lines.

We are touching every crease

and tense design with undiluted intention –

first blotting out words, then delectable conversations.

We rejoice in the grand dramatics of our compatibility,

equally committed to corporeal immersion.

    The past culminates in this single outpouring. It is

a privileged evolution. It is months of misfortune

exterminated by the exertion of our mouths:

    Strange rhythms are risked, foreheads pressed,

giving way

to beautiful unadulterated disclosure.

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Copyright © 2012 by Allison Grayhurst

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amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

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First published in “New Binary Press Anthology”, 2012

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elegy of this day being – the song and the poem

 

River – songs from the poetry of Allison Grayhurst

https://dianebarbarash.bandcamp.com/

https://store.cdbaby.com/cd/dianebarbarash3

https://itunes.apple.com/ca/album/river-songs-from-the-poetry-of-allison-grayhurst/id1293420648

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0766X9LDJ/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1507310524&sr=8-1&keywords=diane+barbarash

 

The Poem:

 

elegy of this day being

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At the throat, brushed green like tile I shine.

The devil says “hum-drum”

as the eel struggles, futile like a wagging tail.

So many broken, hating with the hardness of crocodiles

and ants, pulling along their dead,

to consume, knowing nothing of sorrow or forgiveness.

All night I sit with my naked thighs

on the carpet, red from the heat.

What point could there possibly be

to all this pain, the death

of others, the sickness that swarms in mid-air?

Hurricanes hit the graveyards.

A gull tilts on a telephone wire. I wish to bid goodbye.

I wish for ice-cream cones in my fridge,

a handful of poppies to give some child,

any child, I meet.

I see dead eyes in my dream,

glossed with mucous and unbearable vacancy.

How do I serve when the world is so cold?

The humpbacks know this, the midgets

and also the centipedes.

I want to hide in rooms where

infants are sleeping or salamanders nurse their young.

The darkness is in me. The ground deceives me,

changes colours as I go.

Let us go now, my nightmares

and I, go under the light, go until

our heart’s blood is free-falling, exposed.

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Copyright © 1998 by Allison Grayhurst

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amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

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First published in the summer 2012 issue of “Parabola” called Alone & Together

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Now I am Two — the song and the poem

“This song “Now I am Two” speaks to the dedication intimacy asks and the deep subtle bond that follows… River is now available on iTunes and Amazon, and of course on Bandcamp. Bandcamp downloads come with a bonus,” Diane Barbarash

 

 

River – songs from the poetry of Allison Grayhurst

https://dianebarbarash.bandcamp.com/

https://store.cdbaby.com/cd/dianebarbarash3

https://itunes.apple.com/ca/album/river-songs-from-the-poetry-of-allison-grayhurst/id1293420648

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0766X9LDJ/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1507310524&sr=8-1&keywords=diane+barbarash

 

The Poem:

 

Now I am Two

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It is this way, togetherness:

A covenant with tenderness and speaking thoughts

only glimpsed.

The snow falls like rain as the afternoon moves

without time, our hands pressed as one,

lips and then, something better. Always

miraculous, unexpected, awakening. Always

us, vanishing and then re-emerging with these things

of harmony and friction engulfing our scent and path. Soon,

the tiger lilies will bloom and being just us will be made difficult

with the children gathered in our arms. But this ‘difficult’ is

whole and adds to our liberation – making coffee, laughing

at things shared and only ours.

It is what was prayed for, what years and hardship has not

diluted, but has fused into an unbreakable bond – us –

the summoning of all our parts – ancient, immediate

so that even when death comes or fate and terrible sobbing,

neither of us will ever be again

without the other

alone.

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Copyright © 2012 by Allison Grayhurst

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First published in “Anchor & Plume: Kindred, Issue 5, Nest”, 2014

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Ground Bird Flown

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Ground Bird Flown

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Layers of clear

rainbow shine guide

you through the pyramid portal into

open air revelation.

Joy on a stick, in your soft eyes,

closed in death, with permanent grace.

 

For all the gifts your gave,

daily miracles, flutterings,

vocalizations, accumulating in song.

For your fragile vessel, energy octave

higher than us wingless dwellers.

 

Your fearless power streaked

into the lining of your feathered coat,

patterned gold thick veins

washed in sparkling sand.

 

Beautiful Sage of the flowerbed gardens,

the blueberry, the hempseed swallow,

fearless messenger, angelic power

bound in a small body, you were 

loved completely for everything

that you were, gave,

held lifeforce for. You were

soft, demanding and rich

with good humour

 

stretching, expanding

higher, wider, wings aflare, lifting

in pure vibrant dance, puffed and proud,

your freedom actualized, raised

only inches off the ground.

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Copyright © 2017 by Allison Grayhurst

amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

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To be published in Synchronized Chaos, October 2017

http://synchchaos.com/synchronized-chaos-october-2017/

http://synchchaos.com/13691-2/

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You can listen to the poem by clicking below:

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Not your taxidermist.

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Not your taxidermist.

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Foreboding,

witnesses cracked,

ice-slit, more than

a broken arm or a lingering smile

that bears no goodwill. Don’t bother

with the streamline, take the curve, the twisted route

into the starscape’s eye

because it is on that route where the

bells chime a code, where the

simplest solution unfolds

and the wind rises, master of unpredictability,

to thrust you into overload,

where once you were starving for input,

but now are saturated, almost bloated,

still able to breathe a healthy balanced sigh

of mixed astonishment, courage and belief,

still yourself on the threshold collecting

clouds and making a fluctuating ethereal pattern.

 

From a turret window watch the road – it has arrived,

and glory-be the choices that follow

that will lead to unbreakable intimacy, beyond

engravings etched on sidewalk stone.

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Copyright © 2017 by Allison Grayhurst

amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

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Published in “Outlaw Poetry” August 2017

https://www.outlawpoetry.com/not-your-taxidermist-by-allison-grayhurst/

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You can listen to the poem by clicking below:

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When The City Speaks

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When The City Speaks

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It is no small place

this devil’s field

where leopard’s blood

runs through the streets

like a constellation

cut from the sky.

Drunkards, drug pushers,

the cold amoebas that

die without seeing a dawn.

In Chinatown, the spell is

set loose, splitting

sidewalks with fury.

Waxen murderers, a barnyard

of devourers.

Inside,

lovers tremble,

clutched tight together,

sensual and desperate,

anaesthetized by passion,

by common fear

of the cruel madness

that pounds and pursues

just outside their door,

where all

will never be

well nor

free. 

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Copyright © 1991 by Allison Grayhurst

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For Every Rain Cover 5

amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

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Published in “The Bees Are Dead” July 2017

“It is our great pleasure to announce that Allison Grayhurst’s ‘When the City Speaks’ is our 100th publication! Grayhurst’s poem is a paradigm example of the tone and theme that The Bees Are Dead set out to promote. It presents modern urban living as a dystopia already contrived – where class is a predator, red in tooth and claw; an airborne sickness. Where ‘opportunity’ is but a taunt. 
Grayhurst’s lines are snappy and frantic, reflecting the anxiety of her city’s skittish citizens. Her imagery is bleak yet with a surreal beauty coaxed up by zoomorphic and East Asian references. A classic grayscale poem with flashes of luminous iridescence…

We are fortunate to have two more pieces from this great poet locked away safely in our hive’s vault, and we look forward to sharing these with you in the not too distant future…

– P.A-B.”

http://www.thebeesaredead.com/poetry/city-speaks-allison-grayhurst/

 

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You can listen to the poem by clicking below:

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“Grayhurst’s rapturous outpouring of imagery makes her poems easily enjoyable … Like a sear the poet seeks to fathom sensual and spiritual experience through the images of a dream.” Canadian Literature

 “Allison Grayhurst’s Common Dream is a massive book by a talented and enthusiastic young writer, with a feel for descriptive, meaningful verse. Philosophical and very deep,” Paul Rance, editor of Eastern Rainbow, U.K.,  spring 1993.

“Her poems read like the journal entries of a mystic – perhaps that what they are. They are abstract and vivid, like a dreamy manifestation of soul. This is the best way, in prose, one can describe the music which is … the poetry of Allison Grayhurst,” Blaise Wigglesworth Oh! Magazine

“Rich images and complex, shifting metaphors drive Allison Grayhurst’s poems. She focuses on sexual love and interior landscapes, widening to include the heart, eternity and all.”  Next Exit

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