If I see

.

If I see

.

If I see God’s skin,

myself a season of

rain washing a field,

then my condition is final.

Doors keep collapsing

like elm-tree branches in an ice-storm.

Stars are weeds to Oblivion’s depths,

sea-floating, swaying with the motion of moons,

spreading weedy flowers of illumination.

 

I moved from my purgatory coffin,

opened my hand to hold yours. Did it matter?

To lift my head to hear your music?

A perpetual low-fuel

drainage, in me, this desire, hole, exposed

and storming, drip, drip, a spider-bite,

a great bird, small in a high height of sky.

 

Still, to be asleep again, before this battered bridge

beckoned me across, before the

culprit of caring cracked my anonymity, my

protective chamber fat with secrets, cold with no need.

 

Looking out, I cry, I could jump, exploring a soft wind.

If only I could stop looking, face

the lonely rushing in, face

the result of this failed equation –

damp dead field, drowned corners.

 

.

Copyright © 2014 by Allison Grayhurst

Walkways cover 2

amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

.

.

First published in “Stepping Stones Magazine” August 2015

 

http://ssmalmia.com/2015/08/if-i-see/

http://ssmalmia.com/author/allisongrayhurst/

.

Click to access 20151023No_Raft_No_Ocean_by_Allison_Grayhurst.pdf

.

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

.

You can listen to the poems my clicking below:

https://allisongrayhurst.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/09/if-i-see.m4a?_=1

.

“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.

 

.

 

I go inside

.

I go inside

.

to hide

from the wind and

the windy things the wind brings

like popsicles, icicles

and cloud watchers on their backs

ashamed to speak without symbols.

I retreat from the rocky mounds where

toddlers hold their picnics and the cardinals

rest, oblivious of camouflage.

The daydream that sustained me all last year

has weakened in potency, now is just a fleeting habit,

a camper’s terrain I travel to, flooded,

swampy and putrid, fraught

with the imagined memories of sing-songs and linked torsos,

clogged now with pestilence and unrealized connection and

the stars. I still see them overhead,

ordinary, insignificant – never astounding enough

to bleed cosmic capacity into my dilated veins.

Veins waiting to be juiced, to be breached

of their thin-layered confinement – myself waiting to be more

than a catalyst. So many reasons to keep moving,

but none impregnate my spirit, none immerse me or

insist that I take up arms. My arms.

They are hanging, tingling. They are not

me. I am in hiding, away

from the wind and the windy things

the wind brings, part of the pile of the undeclared, an

illegible signature.

.

.

Copyright © 2012 by Allison Grayhurst

amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

.

.

First published in “Calliope Magazine, Volume 2, Issue 7, Summer 2015” July 2015

Click to access Calliope-Magazine-JULY-2015online.pdf

Calliope-Magazine-JULY-2015online

http://www.calliopemagazine.com/

.

Click to access 20151023No_Raft_No_Ocean_by_Allison_Grayhurst.pdf

.

.

You can listen to the poem by clicking below:

https://allisongrayhurst.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/05/i-go-inside.m4a?_=2

.

“Allison Grayhurst intertwines a potent spirituality throughout her work so that each poem is not simply a statement or observation, but a revelation that demands the reader’s personal involvement. Grayhurst’s poetic genius is profound and evident. Her voice is uniquely authentic, undeniable in its dignified vulnerability as it is in its significance,” Kyp Harness, singer/songwriter, author.

“Allison Grayhurst’s poems are like cathedrals witnessing and articulating in unflinching graphic detail the gritty angst and grief of life, while taking it to rare clarity, calm and comfort. Grayhurst’s work is haunting, majestic and cleansing, often leaving one breathless in the wake of its intelligence, hope, faith and love amidst the muck of life. Many of Allison Grayhurst’s poems are simply masterpieces. Grayhurst’s poetry is a lighthouse of intelligent honour… indeed, intelligence rips through her work like white water,” Taylor Jane Green, Registered Spiritual Psychotherapist and author.

.

Book reviews of the River is Blind paperback:

“Throughout (The River is Blind), she (Allison Grayhurst) employs 
reiterated tropes of swallowing and being consumed, spatial fullness 
and emptiness, shut- in, caverns, chasms, cavities; angels, archangels, 
blasphemy, psalms; satiation or starved. With a conceit of unrequited sex as “my desire”, nocturnal emissions, awakening in the morning, the poet lives at capacity, uninhibited, dancing,” Anne Burke, poet, regional representative for Alberta on the League of Canadian Poets’ Council, and chair of the Feminist Caucus.

.

“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. THE RIVER IS BLIND is a must-read,”  Eric M. Vogt, poet and author.

.

.

The fault of sages

.

The fault of sages

.

      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.

.

.

.Copyright  © 2012 by Allison Grayhurst

amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

.

First published in “The Furious Gazelle” June 2015

     

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

.

Click to access 20151023No_Raft_No_Ocean_by_Allison_Grayhurst.pdf

.

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

.

You can listen to the poem by clicking below:

https://allisongrayhurst.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/03/the-fault-of-sages.m4a?_=3

.

“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.

“Grayhurst is a great Canadian poet. All of Allison Grayhurst’s poetry is original, sometimes startling, and more often than not, powerful. Anyone who loves modern poetry that does not follow the common path will find Grayhurst complex, insightful, and as good a poet as anyone writing in the world today. Grayhurst’s poetry volumes are highly, highly recommended,” Tom Davis, poet, novelist and educator.
.
.