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Category: My poems

POEM: Petals


“that which would kill you /
bursts into flowers”
— Jessica Smith

Soshin immortalized
an iris on the page.
She herself gone
at twenty-seven.
You & I seek
the same permanence;
faces turned toward the sun
till a breeze carries us away.

/ / /

Jason Crane
19 February 2020
State College PA

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POEM: 100 seconds

100 seconds

jumpin jack flash
gimme that frackin gas

horse shoes & hand grenades
as the men in my family used to say

nobody plays horse shoes anymore
but we still chuck them bombs

are we on foot or horseback?
sneakers laced or boots strapped?

pull me up I’m sinking
like the old cartoons with one, two,

three fingers in the air
all I can say is we gotta be there by now

with the clock at 100 seconds
& just time for one more drink

/ / /

Jason Crane
18 February 2020
State College PA

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HAIBUN: Un dia en Tucson

Un dia en Tucson

A coyote, or maybe a chicken, calls into the nearness as the sky lightens in the puddles from last night’s rain. Half-tame dogs hunt among the cholla & saguaro in the shadow of the cross. Saint Anthony, pray for us. [South Tucson, El Super] Tapatío Doritos! El Indio: two tamales: shredded beef, enchilada style. Served with rice & silky smooth frijoles refritos. Driving back through Oro Valley to Catalina with leopard-print mountains out the passenger window & a rainbow in the rear view. Hey baby, ¿qué pasó?

/ / /

Jason Crane
12 February 2020
Catalina, Arizona

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POEM: Abstention


If, right now, they were to die,
I would not attend the funeral.
Already I hear the muttering of cousins,
the sotto voce accusations.
The time has come to stop keeping up appearances.
Let others mourn; I did my crying as a child.
I felt the sting & dreamed of death
both given & received.
I hid a mountain of dirt beneath my clothes.
Those who knew them less well
can toss handfuls into their darkness.

/ / /

Jason Crane
9 February 2020
State College PA

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POEM: Body Of Work

Body Of Work

I’d like to be judged
on my whole body of work.
Not the me you remember
from high school, when no one
was anyone yet. Not
as I was in my twenties,
scared into the wrong arms
by encroaching solitude
& a conditional childhood.
Yes you can take my thirties
in account, as I tried to be
who I’d been raised to be, failed
— or worse, succeeded —
struck out across a burning bridge
to save myself and my sons.
Tally up my forties, too;
full of shouts & quaking &
not yet complete.
Have you arrived at me
even now?

/ / /

Jason Crane
7 February 2020
State College PA

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