Allison Grayhurst is a member of the League of Canadian Poets. She has over 450 poems published in international journals and anthologies. She has eleven published books of poetry and five collections, as well as six chapbooks and one e-chapbook; www.allisongrayhurst.com
foraging, near, nearing
on my fingertips -
Backpacks and scarcity,
only the Zen flavour
of moving, taking necessities,
giving up newly bought coats
to strangers on buses.
Bus routes going to unexplained territories
vocalizing droning dreams
of the misused, disenfranchised
cardboard box lifespans
arrows pointing back from the way
silver sorrows, pee-stains
on stones, what is left but dead planets done with
geological formations, never
knowing scattering amoebas, only
knowing failed attempts at rhythm, equilibrium,
aftermaths of harsh creation,
with moons no signs of summer.
A Gathering of Birds
Bringing back birds,
bare sparrow hearts
spectrums of sensuality
the straw-strings of hesitation into
a tight rope capable of sustaining
any tension, true
to channeling more
across pale illusionary divides, dedicated
to slowing the pace, to branding
souls with tender revealing and
reminding the mind of rare waters -
long stretches of unconscious completion
becomes a state of faith
all joys are possible,
is the gratitude for good things imagined, trust
in what rises, eventually
dissipates or flowers.
Wide as the wind,
your spirit is around me.
I see your hands on books
and hear your voice as though
it were still your own.
I miss you again like the first day
when Death showed you its secrets.
I remember the love you gave, your
pride and your directness. I want to tell you
the things I have learned are not worth an ounce
of your affection, but still I have learned
to sail through this barren sea. I have learned
that I can. Father, a year and half have past
and there is more time still to come.
I have feared this world without you,
but now know because you were once here
it will never be without you.
The sidewalks will forever hold your weight, others
will always speak your name with warm admiration,
and I myself am part of you. You are in me
like a main artery, a bloodline that fierce death
can neither dilute nor sever.