Saltwater Sprint

Posted on February 20, 2014 by Allison Grayhurst

Saltwater Sprint

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.

amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

Surrogate Dharma chapbook 1

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

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

First published in “Chicago Record Magazine”, 2014

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

You can listen to the poem by clicking below:

“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.

Balanced Repertoire

Posted on February 17, 2014 by Allison Grayhurst

Balanced Repertoire

Petals and fizzling small craters, inches

from the side of the road.

I dive

into the net and let

the struggle ensue.

I lived in corners

with the dead-mature, in flaps

like wishy-washy by-standers. But here, entering

the small soft mounds of pleasurable

taboos and smiling up in the treetops, I am sitting

on the weakest branch just to get the best overview.

My tongue

is painted many colours.

I lost you in the nuclear glow. It happened

gradually, like a cliff descending,

finally,

meeting ground.

I used to float –

a silhouette of fine cuts

and obvious edges. But I lost you and

it is good to lose extensions,

flavours of redundant delight.

Enthralled by sensual geometry,

by mountain ridges reflected in heartbeats,

wrinkles, rough spots, perfect

intricacy

equilibrium

subconscious sway, and you.

You never loved me, never knew

I was a neophyte, taker of whatever

I could get, keeper of

an ethereal garden. I

will accept my joy

regardless of lack, discover joy

in what droops to provide me canopy, also

in what arches upward, proclaiming its praise.

amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

Surrogate Dharma chapbook 1

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

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

First published in “Chicago Record Magazine”, 2014

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

You can listen to the poem by clicking below:

“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.

Quagmire

Posted on January 26, 2014 by Allison Grayhurst

Quagmire

Coming down, knowing now

that everything known is blindness,

deciphered speculation – constellations out there

that spin, conjoin, burst and create

are mesmerizing but lifeless – into the future,

out from the past – the power is menacing, somewhat, and

somewhat stale, stagnant, just ‘happening’ like storms happen

and the rising of the moon.

Rain on a leaf or an orange tabby chasing a shadow is

accessible, pleasantly startling, metaphysically invasive.

Many serious intellects are left crawling from the lack of sleep,

from acquiring too many codes and smug victories.

We are small, inside this body of God – a city, drooling with

arrogance and inquisitiveness. That is us in motion, devouring

the zenith and charting out mysteries.

But things get caught on other things. Dead butterflies

can still glow – behind clean glass, inside Berber-carpeted

buildings, all fluorescent lights and classifications.

We can point and name and even think

that energy starts and ends, forget that everything is circulation

and that life here is simple:

It would rather copulate, raise offspring, than count stars.

Inside this body of God, we are cupped in fluid boundaries,

by instinct, by undeniable emotion, stronger, yet part of,

cerebral musings.

We feed from the Earth and we get hungry.

We have these telescopes, our catacombs of understanding,

but we also have pilgrimage, crust, heartbeat, dying,

soccer fields and song.

amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

Surrogate Dharma chapbook 1

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

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

First published in “The Weary Blues”

The Weary Blues 2 Weary Blues 1 Weary Blues Quagmire 1 Weary Blues Quagmire 2

http://thewearyblues.org/?p=34

http://thewearyblues.org/issue-3/

http://thewearyblues.org/wp-content/uploads/2013/11/The_Weary_Blues_Issue_3_light.pdf

The_Weary_Blues_Issue_3_light

You can listen to the poem by clicking below:

“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.