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Author: Jason Crane

POEM: morning poem

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morning poem

I awoke with your name
on my lips;
these days being awake
goes hand in hand
with thinking of you.

/ / /

14 February 2014
Oak Street

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POEM: on listening to Bach’s six suites for unaccompanied cello

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on listening to Bach’s six suites for unaccompanied cello

out in the living room
Rostropovich is playing
Bach’s cello suites
he takes the first
at breakneck tempo
the familiar intervals
whipping by as if heard
from the window
of a passing automobile
while in the bedroom
two bodies entwine
smiling laughing sighing
heat pours off the radiator
onto already sweaty skin
as the cello comes
to the climactic end
of the 1st suite
in the silence her yes
slips out softly
his low note of passion
as they begin again
masked by the climbing vine
growing from the cello
at the start of the 2nd suite

/ / /

11 February 2014
Oak Street

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The angel is in the details

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This weekend I stayed with my friends Daryl and Deborah in Brooklyn. On Saturday night they gave me the gift of a meal. And believe me, when Daryl and Deborah cook for you, it’s a gift.

Watching them work together in the kitchen was beautiful. First, it’s obvious how much they love one another and how much joy they take in preparing meals together. The whole process of cooking was like a partly choreographed, partly improvised dance. One person moving to the island in the middle of the kitchen to chop or read a recipe as the other moves to the stove to stir or add a bit of spice. One getting a bowl from the cabinet as the other pulls leaves off a stem. It was like watching a ballet where the story was being written by the dancers right there in the moment.

But what struck me even more was their attention to detail. Every part of the cooking process – deciding what to make and which dishes would go together, preparing the ingredients, cooking those ingredients, choosing the right serving containers and utensils – was carefully thought out, discussed, and agreed upon. There was a moment when Daryl and Deborah were picking exactly the right spoon for serving the chana dal, and I was overwhelmed with a sense of the love and joy and care that they put into meals and into taking care of their guests.

I’ve always appreciated people who care about the tiny details. Knowing the names of all the parts of a machine or the parts of speech or the intricacies of a piece of music. I once dated someone who said she only dated nerds, in other words, people who had at least one thing in which they were deeply interested. I still think that’s sound advice. Watching my friends cook brought that home. (Of course, the beautiful thing about D&D is that they bring that same level of passion and attention to many other things in addition to cooking.)

Being with Daryl and Deborah is inspiring in many ways. They’re a living lesson in mindfulness. I’m going to pay more attention to what they’re teaching.

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POEM: subway seen

subway-scene-18

subway seen

sidelong glances from
        underhood
at the man scratching
        lottery tickets
passing over the Manhattan Bridge
        through sudden sunshine
startled, he catches himself
        looks away
soon enough the pull of fortune
        draws his gaze again
narrowed eyes, furrowed brow
        winning or losing by proxy
until at the next stop
        the man rises
says two words to the woman
        across the aisle
takes his maybe fortune with him
        out the door

/ / /

9 February 2014
Manhattan

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Why I complain about my job online

It was pointed out to me this morning by someone I like and trust that I make many complaint-jokes about my job. So let me say this: My life is OK. I’m quickly rebuilding my relationship with my sons. I have friends in State College. I’m slowly building up a freelance career so I can work for myself. I date people. I have a nice apartment with two cats. I’m very grateful for all of that. Truly.

Also, I will continue to make darkly comic jokes about things in my life. I’m a receptionist at a car dealership making $15K a year with no benefits and that is hilarious in the way finally getting to fly on an airplane for the first time only to have it crash midway through the flight is hilarious. And yes, I’m here because of the decisions I made and I’m doing my best to make better ones. But for now, I need to keep making jokes because they help me stay sane. And I make them to all of you because you’re fabulous. Love you all. Need a Buick? Want to hear me answer the phone? 814-867-4444

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POEM: salt

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salt

you were sitting on the couch
I was on the floor in front of you
you were wearing that skirt
your bare legs pressing against my back
I knew all I had to do was turn
and you would accept me
the salty taste of you on my tongue
your fingers twisted in my hair
I would pull you toward me
you would arch your spine
head thrown back against the couch
eyes closed, breath deepening
stifling your moans with one arm
because there were people sleeping
in the next room …
but instead I sat there, facing the wall
feeling your knees against
my shoulder blades

/ / /

Written in 2010, I think, in Albany, NY.

Photo source

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POEM: weather report

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weather report

yesterday it was fifty degrees
today there is snow on the ground

yesterday we stepped wide around mud puddles
today I’ll step gingerly around ice

yesterday in the quiet I could hear rain drops
today the world is muffled in its white blanket

yesterday we walked without jackets
today I’ll walk with a scarf

yesterday I moved with the easy bounce of spring
today I’m reminded of the slower pace of winter

yesterday it was fifty degrees
today there is snow on the ground

yesterday I loved you
today I do, too

/ / /

3 February 2014
Oak Street

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POEM: he talks to his lover about music

he talks to his lover about music

I’ve heard this song before but I never noticed this bit here where they sing your name. No, seriously. I’ll play it again. Listen. Right after this line. I’m sure they sing your name. Just once, with some tasty harmony, too. I didn’t notice it the first fifteen times I listened to it today. But for some reason, on the sixteenth time through, it hit me. I had to go back several times to be sure. But I’m sure now. Every time it gets to that part, even if I’m doing something else, I get these little goosebumps on my arms and my cheeks get red. It’s the funniest thing. I can’t believe you don’t hear it. It’s so clear. Maybe if you got closer to the speakers. Come right down here on the floor. Close your eyes. Now just focus on the music. OK? I’m going to start the song. Wait. Wait. Almost there. Right … now. Did you catch it? It’s the coolest thing. Anyway, I just wanted to play that for you. I wanted you to know that I find you in the everyday places. In the small things. You pop up unexpectedly like a patch of wildflowers seen quickly along the highway. A brief flash of color and then it’s gone and I’m not even sure I saw it but it stays with me.

/ / /

30 January 2014
Oak Street

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POEM: biology

DNA_Double_Helix

biology

I will never write
a more beautiful poem
than the one created
by your DNA

/ / /

29 January 2014
Oak Street

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The one album you’d play to demonstrate rock music to a visiting extraterrestrial

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I asked on Facebook and Twitter for your suggestions regarding the best album to play to an alien visitor who landed on Earth and asked to know what rock music is. The Beatles were mentioned four times, with two mentions each for Chuck Berry, Black Sabbath and Led Zeppelin. Here’s the list:

  • Tracy Kristen Parker: Radiohead, The Bends or The Beatles, Abbey Road
  • Dmitri Matheny: Pink Floyd, Dark Side of the Moon
  • Dave Bonta: The Ramones (first album), Metallica, Garage Days Revisited
  • David Beckett: Chuck Berry, The Great 28
  • Rita Jean: Fleetwood Mac, Rumors
  • Lucious Dick Tacoma: T.Rex, Electric Warrior or AC/DC Back in Black
  • David Hill: Led Zeppelin, Led Zeppelin II
  • Don Levy: The Beatles, Revolver
  • David Menestres: Chuck Berry, After School Session
  • Max Johnson: Black Sabbath, Black Sabbath
  • Adam Niewood: Led Zeppelin, Houses of the Holy
  • Patrick McCurry: U2, Joshua Tree
  • Peggy Lalone’s husband: Alice Cooper, Zipper Catches Skin
  • Dean Bonner: Steve Hillage, Light In The Sky
  • Annine Everson: The Beatles, Revolver
  • Stephen Buono: Black Sabbath, Black Sabbath
  • Brett Porter: The Beatles, White Album
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POEM: late-day sun

late-day sun

I’m at my desk as a long Monday crawls to a close. Ahead of me is a walk down unshoveled sidewalks through rapidly falling mercury. Paul Simon is singing about distant trains. Suddenly, the late-day sun bursts through the front door. It fills the room, makes every surface sparkle like a gem stone. The sight of it takes my breath away. I feel the heat rise to my cheeks then spread through my chest, down my arms to the tips of my fingers. Even though I’m at work, wearing an unwanted uniform, this moment is perfect. I smile wide, thankful for this most beautiful star and the way it sets my world alight.

/ / /

27 January 2014
Oak Street

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POEM: release

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release

I slowly open my hands
feel its wings flutter
against my warm palms
see the colors emerge
from between my fingers
until it is free, flying
lifting off into the sky
leaving a single feather
on the cuff of my sleeve
I put the feather on my desk
so I can look at it later
when I need to remember

/ / /

27 January 2014
State College, PA

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POEM: complexity

atom2

complexity

At the center of an atom
(we learned in school)
is the nucleus, around which
orbit a certain number
of protons and electrons,
depending on what the atom
is an atom of. Groups
of these atoms get together
to form molecules of other
stuff. The trick is to get
exactly the right combination
to make the thing you
want to make. But sometimes,
as simple as that sounds,
you miss your chance. The
atom you want binds with
something else, and you’re
left floating, a single bit
of helium or hydrogen
whirling around, waiting
for a connection.

/ / /

25 January 2014
Oak Street

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POEM: up late and texting

Texting

up late and texting

avoiding the anxiety
of one another’s eyes

as we step gingerly out
from behind the wall

24 January 2014
Oak Street

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