fuzzy brain from the drive
soundwall of insect songs
at the trailhead
/ / /
20 August 2022
State College PA
Category: Pennsylvania
hiked up a mountain
still
can’t see the future
/ / /
31 July 2022
State College PA
The Poorly Locked Vault Of The Mind Swings Open At The Approach Of Sleep
Last night just before sleep
I thought of kissing you
on the street corner
outside the Polish church
in Pittsburgh where
everybody could see
but it didn’t matter
and maybe we also got donuts
but I can’t remember.
/ / /
29 June 2022
Pittsfield MA
hard paddle
flip
swim
/ / /
29 May 2022
State College PA
over chai
at the park
solved all the world’s problems
/ / /
18 April 2022
State College PA
Tobyhanna
Monday is a goldfish.
Tuesday is a goblin.
Wednesday steals my lunch.
Thursday hangs me out to dry.
Friday comes a-creepin’.
Saturday remembers.
Sunday looks at a cloud.
The church in Tobyhanna
stands across from the country store.
/ / /
16 April 2022
State College PA
(NaPoWriMo Day 16)
Leave a CommentAmish chicken
& whoopie pies
country road trip
/ / /
16 April 2022
State College
February ice storm
the Christmas tree
is still up
/ / /
3 February 2022
State College PA
Musser Gap morning:
common burdock, Dame’s rocket
yellow salsify
/ / /
7 June 2021
Musser Gap (PA)
warm December day;
a puff of white ash
as I seal the incense jar
/ / /
Jason Crane
11 December 2020
State College PA
reenlisting
for Owen
I didn’t go home after the war, instead —
rucksack slung over my shoulder
ashamed of who I’d become
& of who I’d left behind —
I wandered for years
winding a course through scrubland
surviving on tofu &
the kindness of strangers
later still I rose up from the South
ancient ground of (some of) my people
ankles swelling in a cramped bus seat
beside the Appalachian Trail
I’d always hated Pennsylvania
swore never to live there
so of course that’s where the bus stopped
less than a mile from my children
now, though I imagine water
& gulls above the Atlantic,
I find the ground hardening beneath my feet
as I relearn the delicate art of balance
on a blanket in the park
on a rain-soaked Friday evening
I took the ring from your fingers
& realized I’d gone home after all
/ / /
Jason Crane
22 March 2018
Butler PA
every white person has a Cherokee grandma
every white person has a Cherokee grandma
& a dream catcher dangling like a promise
from the rear-view mirror of their Forester
they never look back because
someone might be losing everything
we grow up learning to love hot cocoa
from the box, the name with the funny accent
over the final e — & it certainly is final, nailing
the coffin lid shut as the last drop of water
disappears beneath a tight plastic cap
we let them have what they want
because we cannot face who we’ve become
or who we had to kill to get here
Nikes squishing through the mud
made by mixing blood & dirt
tie your lips shut so capitalism doesn’t slip out
stay in the protective circle or the Bogey Man (TM)
will come for you
do you know what it means to miss New Orleans?
do you remember where you were when it was too late?
/ / /
Jason Crane
15 March 2018
Butler PA
Chris & Jeff at the bar (aka the sages of Temperanceville)
Jeff leans over to Chris like a conspirator:
“They’re tryin’ to turn everything into fuckin’ ‘right to work.’”
He looks up at the TV news, snorts air through his nose.
On the screen: West Virginia teachers on strike.
“They wanna take everythin’ away from ’em,” Jeff growls.
Chris nods, on his fourth phone call in 10 minutes.
“How many I got left, hon?” Jeff asks the bartender.
(She’s flying past, cradling a basket of bread
like a newborn babe.) “You’ve got one, Jeff.”
“I’ll take it, then, and give Chris one more, too.”
Next story: the baseball players union is suing the league.
“Good for them. Give it to ’em!”
Welcome to Pittsburgh. Eat your hoagie.
/ / /
Jason Crane
27 February 2018
The Village Tavern
in Pittsburgh’s West End
(formerly Temperanceville, PA)
