Skip to content →

Jason Crane Posts

POEM: Friday afternoon, outside our apartment

Friday afternoon, outside our apartment

little guy:
fins on helmet
training wheels

at a certain age
those’ll get you
where you need to go

old guy:
baseball cap
walker

at a certain age
there’s no hurry
to get there

/ / /

Jason Crane
17 April 2020
Tucson AZ

One Comment

POEM: The still small voice

The still small voice
(for Fr. Edgar Holden)

A lotus tattoo & a statue of the Buddha;
I turn halfway to look down the road behind me.
Flinching from the name of God like a slapped child,
I yearn for the gentle mysticism of Merton,
for a life among flagstones & evensong.
There are burrs on my clothing & scratches on my skin
from running through fields to evade my pursuers.
At night I hear the still small voice:
“How’re you going to make your way in the world
when you weren’t cut out for working?”
Twenty years ago I took a monk to a quiet spot
in the Sonoran Desert, left him there with his brothers
to bathe in the sunset & silence. I drove back to town
wondering whether I should have stayed there with them.

/ / /

Jason Crane
2 April 2020
Tucson, AZ

Note: The two lines in quotation marks are from Warren Zevon’s song “The French Inhaler.”

Leave a Comment

POEM: The Lord’s Prayer (Revised)

The Lord’s Prayer (Revised)

Our Father, who art in heaven,
are you there or not?
Thy kingdom has seen better days,
& if this is thy will then you’ve got
some ‘splaining to do, Lucy.
Give us a break, wouldja?
A bunch of old gray suits are trying
to steal our daily bread.
Maybe we can’t live by bread alone,
but without it we’re toast, if you’ll
forgive the pun. Also forgive us
our trespasses & our shoplifting
& our “missed” rent payments.
Lead us not into temptation, for we are
sorely tempted to string up these motherf—
excuse me, Lord, bad guys.
For thine is the kingdom & the power &
the glory & whatnot, but we might need
to take matters into our own hands for a while.
Amen.

/ / /

Jason Crane
27 March 2020
Tucson, AZ

Leave a Comment

POEM: might as well jump

might as well jump

red to dead, red to donor
black to donor, black to metal
a rare cold rain beating down
turn the key; nothing
he cleans pools, he says, drenched
turn it again; nothing
the Catholic in me apologizes
maybe if I put this here instead?
turn the key; life!
the rain, if anything, strengthens

/ / /

Jason Crane
18 March 2020
Tucson, AZ

Leave a Comment