Skip to content →

Category: Travel

POEM: a poem for myself

a poem for myself

I’m driving through Virginia
listening to Tommy Emmanuel
on a playlist I made in different times
I was going to write this poem about you
but I decided to write it about me instead
because I need to take back your space
            in my head
you used to say you liked my singing
well I like my singing too
& lots of people could love a weathered guy
who sings “King Of Wishful Thinking”
at the top of his voice
as he passes one semi after another
I’m starting to believe this road
could take me somewhere better
& in any case this is a real good playlist

/ / /

12 April 2021
Verona VA
for me

Leave a Comment

POEM: real Georgia hospitality

real Georgia hospitality

the first one brought me to a garage
near a grocery store
the second to a garage
near a few restaurants
one asked if I had a way to heat the van
the other made sure he found me a level place
both got me out of the rain
made sure I was safe
for no other reason than being good people
my friend said people will show you
their humanity once they see yours
he’s right & that’s what I hold onto
when the rain comes

/ / /

10 April 2021
Newnan GA
for my two tow truck drivers

Leave a Comment

POEM: beside the road, a sign:

beside the road, a sign:

WRONG DIRECTION?
GOD ALLOWS U-TURNS
suddenly I have tears in my eyes

if only I knew where I was headed
a few miles later the desert opens
pours away like an ocean over the horizon

don’t give your energy to fear, she says
as I have tears in my eyes again
but who will love me, I ask her

there are more things to love than just people
she tells me from a few feet away
(there’s a woodpecker in the trees)

later, driving away, I see it
a flash of white wings as it dips in front of me
I’m headed to a camping spot, alone

later still I build a fire
the rain comes shortly after
my eyes burn from the smoke

///

25 March 2021
Rothrock State Forest

Leave a Comment

POEM: Going Over San Augustin Pass

Going Over San Augustin Pass

there’s a moment as the highway curves
when it looks like you’ll disappear
off the end of the Earth
lost in a pale blue sky from which
there is no returning

in the next moment you’re over the pass
spreading out before you is a basin so large
it’s as if the ground and sky switched places

far off in the distance
the pastel shadows of mountains
like an artist’s rendering

/ / /

26 February 2021
near Las Cruces, New Mexico

Leave a Comment

haiku: 7 February 2021

February night —
like static between stations:
the waves in the cove

///

7 February 2021
south of Mendocino CA

Leave a Comment

POEM: Salton Sea Serenade

Salton Sea Serenade

unknown birds sing a
Salton Sea serenade
as I squish my Crocs
through unexpected mud
later I’ll wash it off
but just for a moment
— right now —
this beach and I are one
Mardi Gras Mambo Renge Kyo!

///

24 January 2021
Niland CA

Thanks to Jim Macnie for the last line.

Leave a Comment

haiku: 22 January 2021

watch cattle grazing
feel my heartbeat start to slow
: a morning lesson

///

22 January 2021
Catalina AZ

Leave a Comment

haiku: 16 January 2021

sunshine, wild horses
“you’ll for sure poop in your van”
: Ironwood Forest

/ / /

16 January 2021
Ironwood Forest National Monument
Arizona

Leave a Comment

haiku: 2 December 2020

ravens launch from the rocks
as the sun burns off the mist;
snow in the desert

/ / /

Jason Crane
2 December 2020
north of Charrizozo, NM

Leave a Comment

POEM: Oasis

Oasis

It’s such a cliché even Looney Tunes covered it:
the desperate man in the desert, crawling toward water.
In the cartoon he usually dives into the pond
to find only sand where he sought salvation.
Me, I’ll be driving a minivan to the water’s edge,
and I’m fairly certain it’s actually there. At least
as certain as we can be of anything in these times.
At some point you have to ask yourself why you move.
What possible promise could await over the horizon?
Does forty degrees of longitude matter that much?
I’ll be the judge of that, says the little voice in my head.
I don’t trust that voice any further than I could throw it,
which is no distance at all if past is any kind of prologue.
“Go east, middle-aged man” doesn’t have the same ring to it
as the other, more famous phrase, but what the hell.
YOLO and whatnot. The tank is full, the nose is pointed
toward the rising sun. I have nothing to lose but my chains.
And probably some engine parts I can’t identify.
Save me a spot on the dunes.

/ / /

Jason Crane
25 October 2020
Tucson, AZ

Leave a Comment

POEM: Eat At Joe’s

Eat At Joe’s

we slept in the back of our
        Honda Fit across the road
        from a swanky bed & breakfast

a ridge across the middle of the car
        kept either of us from sleeping soundly
        while birds with laser guns warred in the trees

I don’t wear underwear & I’m too overweight
        to change in the car so at one point
        I was naked on the gravel at Parsons Marsh

we started on the road trip with -$100
        in the bank and $100 in my pocket
        enough for gas, one meal at the Heritage

& then some bread, cheese & pepperoni
        to eat on a blanket in the car
        faces lit from time to time by passing headlights

in the morning we ate omelets at Joe’s Diner
        the one from the Rockwell painting with the cop
        & the kid who should have been allowed to escape

there was a signed photo of John Williams on the wall
        which reminded me that I first saw Star Wars
        at a drive-in not too far from here

now: a coffee shop eavesdropping on the locals
        picking out the ones we want to befriend
        when we finally escape PA & move here

///

Jason Crane
10 May 2019
Lenox, MA

Note: It turns out I wrote a poem with this same title back in 2012.

Leave a Comment

VIDEO: “Swamp Thing”

A 90-second video essay made of clips from a recent trip to DC with my son John. All video and audio by Jason Crane.

Leave a Comment

POEM: reenlisting

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

Leave a Comment

POEM: Peter, George, John, Joseph, Silas, Henry and Tom

Photo of the site of the battle by Jason Crane.

Peter, George, John, Joseph, Silas, Henry and Tom

pop!pop!pop!

Pinkerton rifles filling the air
with smoke & screams & blood

pop!pop!pop!

men of iron & steel
men of flesh & bone

pop!pop!pop!

the ground soaks up the evidence
the birds scatter; no witnesses

now: the furnaces shut, rusting
mud colors the Monongahela

two robins rest on a sign
listing the names of the dead

/ / /

Jason Crane
21 Feb 2018
Pittsburgh PA

This poem is inspired by the Battle of Homestead, which took place just down the road from my hotel. On July 2, 1892, Pinkertons hired by a steel company murdered seven striking workers, all members of the Amalgamated Association of Iron and Steel Workers. Three Pinkertons were also killed. Shortly thereafter the government used the state militia to bust the strike and break the union. The poem’s title is a list of the names of the seven murdered workers.

Leave a Comment