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Treading Water

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I hear hummingbird’s wings

figure-eight beneath my skin.

Too many bitten sandwiches, people

walking by, containing

their anguish.

The wordless hymn

is a waterfall, pouring

through the smoke: not a dry ocean,

but, rejoicing. But this mind

is like an axe, slaughtering my joy

with world-worn concerns.

Who craves the contradictory high? Do I?

Do I love for nothing but death and bramble?

To be blinded by ecstasy,

to hunt again for the colossal Self.

I walk through the dust-ridden morn.

The wind splits my shell like a labouring woman:

It enters. It expels. It knows

everything.

Copyright © 1995 by Allison Grayhurst

amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

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Published in “Synchronized Chaos” June 2018

https://synchchaos.com/synchronized-chaos-june-2018/

http://synchchaos.com/poetry-from-allison-grayhurst-6/

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You can listen to the poem by clicking below:

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Anonymous

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The man on the corner curb,

knees bandaged and bloodstained,

mocks

each passer-by

with a wink from his drunken

eyes.

Long hair like seaweed

glued around his neck and shoulders.

Child

of a tortured past, says he sees miracles

looking into storefront windows.

Lovers

ignore him, only children notice,

tugging on pant legs with defiance and

trepidation.

Says he plays cards with leprechauns,

has lived through an avalanche which fractured his

soul

into two. Unravels his bandages and shows

his wound: can’t remember how it happened.

Rain

floods his open hands.

His mouth, catching drops like

diamonds.

Copyright © 1995 by Allison Grayhurst

amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

.

.

Published in “The Pangolin Review, Issue 3.5”, June 2018

https://thepangolinreview.wixsite.com/mypoetrysite/current-issue-1

https://thepangolinreview.wixsite.com/mypoetrysite/archives

https://ameetp23.wixsite.com/mysite-1/issue-3-5

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You can listen to the poem by clicking below:

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Ambush Your Rage

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Savour the shock

that makes a weak person perish.

            Savour the shape

of abandonment in an old man’s eyes,

the grit of bitterness that taints the forgotten,

the pinpoint range of hurt

which lasts beyond

all means of distraction or comfort.

            Savour the fruit of your

awareness, its fierce caress and symbolism.

            Live long along the roadside’s edge. Let

the ants weave your shroud.

            Give nothing to the canyons, to the diving

bottom-feeders while winter freezes overhead.

            Give nothing to this minnow town, these

streets of helter-skelter code.

            Let the heron guide the way as you

kneel before your destined trials

and seize the tide

to follow.

Copyright © 1995 by Allison Grayhurst

amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

.

.

Published in “”Synchronized Chaos” June 2018

https://synchchaos.com/synchronized-chaos-june-2018/

http://synchchaos.com/poetry-from-allison-grayhurst-6/

.

.

You can listen to the poem by clicking below:

.

.