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Category: Poem-A-Day 2013

POEM: I, Eye, Aye (for Rahsaan Roland Kirk)

Published 7 August 2013 by Jason Crane

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I, Eye, Aye
(for Rahsaan Roland Kirk
7 August 2013-5 December 1977)

I said I can’t see but I can see
not the way you see, not with my eyes
I see through the sounds from the crowd
the roar of voices flying toward me
like fighter jets screaming out of the sky
I see through the ends of my fingers
pressing the mother of pearl
stopping the air, letting it pass
I see through the crash of cymbals
the dry thump of bass strings
hammers pounding inside the piano
I see through the windows in my dreams
out of which come magic words of power
talismanic names to guide me forward
I see through the needle on wax
like a forest fire captured in a wine bottle
waiting for you to let it out

7 August 2013
Auburn AL

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POEM: a few photographs

Published 6 August 2013 by Jason Crane

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a few photographs

looking at pictures
isn’t nearly the same
as feeling their hands
in mine as we cross
a busy street or
their laughter as they
pile on me and wrestle
it can’t hold a candle
to a kiss when I tuck them in
or the sleepy “good night”
when their walls are down
but given a choice between
seeing their smiling faces
from a thousand miles away
and not seeing them at all
I’m pretty damn grateful
for pictures

6 August 2013
Auburn AL

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POEM: what I choose to remember

Published 5 August 2013 by Jason Crane

what I choose to remember

she said I only remember the bad things
not the good things that happened since

but the bad things are so easy to remember
even if they didn’t leave physical scars

I’ve seen my blood on someone else’s hand
felt the crack of the knuckles across my face

those are things you can’t be expected to forget
no matter how many years move slowly by

we sit on opposite sides of a vast sea of silence
and for once in my life, I can hear myself think

5 August 2013
Auburn AL

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POEM: the band across the river

Published 4 August 2013 by Jason Crane

City, New York skyline

the band across the river

we sit in silence, looking across the river
New Jersey shines like a constellation
eventually the quiet is broken
by a loud cover band on the Jersey side
a Bob Seeger song drifts across the water
we both laugh as we wonder if this is the end
it is, though we won’t know for sure for weeks yet
a man on the next bench strikes up a conversation
it’s one in the morning and we’re all enjoying
the silky feeling of a summer night in New York
after a while we stand, say goodbye to our new friend
walk off in search of a train that will take us back
to our hotel room in Brooklyn, the place we’re staying
because we no longer have a home together
and the home was just a room anyway
and everything is ending slowly
and the band across the river plays Mustang Sally

4 August 2013
Auburn AL

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POEM: a typical night in the West Village

Published 4 August 2013 by Jason Crane

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a typical night in the West Village

there was an iguana
the size of a dinosaur
waiting on the sidewalk
outside the 55 Bar
we eased past it cautiously
headed up Christopher Street
toward 7th Avenue
the drunk kids on the corner
were arguing about dancing
as their argument got louder
they attracted the attention
of the oversized iguana
we slipped into an ATM lobby
took out our smart phones
and Instagrammed the carnage
when it was over and the iguana
had lumbered down 7th
we eased out of the lobby
strolled arm in arm down the street
arriving at Soy & Sake
just in time for our reservation

3 August 2013
Auburn AL

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POEM: smile and call you buddy

Published 3 August 2013 by Jason Crane

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smile and call you buddy

an ocean of lights and windows
on which sail eight million voices
speaking eight hundred languages
at night the city becomes a galaxy
office windows like clusters of stars
headlights zooming through the black
trailing their comet tails behind them
or maybe it’s a forest of pointed towers
trunks with no branches, no leaves
thrusting toward the sunlight obscured
on the concrete and asphalt below
more than anything it is home
the ground is firm, the grid makes sense
the street vendors sell falafel
smile and call you buddy

2 August 2013
Auburn AL

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POEM: tactile

Published 1 August 2013 by Jason Crane

Screenshot from 2013-07-31 19:00:33

tactile

I’m tired of typing
tired of the clicking keys
the noises my phone makes
I want to hear your laugh
feel the curls in your hair
learn what you smell like
put our fingers together

let’s end this day
with a kiss not a keystroke
a touch, not a text
this dance should be danced
together, not apart
till we fall asleep entangled
the way lovers do

31 July 2013
Auburn AL

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POEM: bottle and balloons

Published 30 July 2013 by Jason Crane

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bottle and balloons

today I put a note in a bottle
but I live far from the water
so instead I tied the bottle
to six red helium balloons
then I climbed onto the roof
watched them drift upward
until I lost them in the clouds
I’ve wanted to send this note
ever since that day years ago
seems unlikely it will land
in your yard, since you don’t have one
but I feel better knowing it’s out there
floating through the summer sky

30 July 2013
Auburn AL

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POEM: all while imagining kissing you

Published 30 July 2013 by Jason Crane

Screenshot from 2013-07-29 19:28:20

all while imagining kissing you

I felt the hot shower water in my hair
stretched my sore back muscles
filled up Mason jars for sun tea
took a long walk in the hot sun
listened to sports talk radio
bought food for my birds
found another postcard in my mailbox
read messages from friends
read messages from strangers
texted you
left a voicemail for my sons
watched an episode of The Sopranos
emptied the dishwasher
put dinner in the oven, then ate it
played “Samba Pa Ti” on the ukulele
looked at a wall and meditated
got into bed, listened to a comedian
drifted off to sleep

29 July 2013
Auburn AL

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POEM: counting snails

Published 28 July 2013 by Jason Crane

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counting snails

we called her name
shouted from the back porch
come to find out
she’d been out in the woods
all afternoon counting snails
she came back covered
in grass and leaves
cheeks streaked with mud
but smiling like it was Christmas
she showed us a sketchbook full of swirls
snail trails she’d copied
each one a little galaxy
gone almost before she could draw it

27 July 2013
Auburn AL

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POEM: chana masala

Published 26 July 2013 by Jason Crane

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chana masala

over chana masala and nan
we fixed all the world’s problems
or at least convinced ourselves
that the grass was indeed greener
in other places we’d lived

when I got home I put on the record
I’ve been listening to again and again
funny how a voice can work its way
inside me, open all the doors
slip past every defense

lately I’ve been wondering
whether it’s possible to fall in love
with a voice alone
a series of organized sounds
standing in for touch and sight

as the next song starts
I think yes, it’s more than possible
and for the first time in years
I draw a hot bath, grab a book
and sink down into the future

26 July 2013
Auburn AL

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POEM: the tricks it plays

Published 25 July 2013 by Jason Crane

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the tricks it plays
(for ___________)

she’s in their apartment
wondering what happened
like putting together
the pieces of an intricate puzzle
when she doesn’t know
what the picture is supposed to be
she’s certain she used to know
as those early days rushed by
in a blur of skin and song
those days when an hour seemed
like a minute / when a second
could feel like a lifetime
now the clocks have stopped
and the house is quiet
even when he’s there
time is a thick, gooey liquid
through which she wades
toward the door she left open

25 July 2013
Auburn AL

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POEM: satori on the East River Ferry

Published 24 July 2013 by Jason Crane

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satori on the East River Ferry

you are imagining
what it would be like
to have this conversation
on the East River Ferry
bridges on both sides
gulls overhead
standing close to one another
because you have to lean in
to hear her over the engines
Williamsburg is at your back
ahead lies an uncertain future
but you don’t care at all
because this moment
is what matters

24 July 2013
Auburn AL

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POEM: Skilcraft pens

Published 23 July 2013 by Jason Crane

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Skilcraft pens

we had dozens of these
when I was a kid
every one of the
identical black bullets
marked “U.S. Government”
my dad brought them home
they were on his workbench
and in our junk drawer
and beside the phone
Dad used them to write his
precise, blocky script
Mom made shopping lists
using the penmanship she’d learned
back when they still taught such things
I used them to create role-playing
characters (strength, dexterity, etc.)
and I imagine them on the desks of
millions of government employees
keeping track, ordering, remitting
running the daily business of the country
before computers replaced the need
for a pen and sheets of carbon paper
before every form looked the same

23 July 2013
Auburn AL

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