SORRY BUT… A Poem by John Grey

You wonder why I’m this way.
It’s not just because of the way you are.
It’s bad programming, flat tires,
my family, my job,
body hair, and boring sex,
cracked mirrors, plastic straws, Trump –
and there’s more –
lids that refuse to unscrew,
songs on the radio,
loud neon scenery,
the unsuspected sharpness of some blades,
spam and junk-mail,
the bus system, the crappy WiFi,
the pain I have to overcome,
Kardashians, heavy traffic,
tasteless fast food, aggressive panhandlers,
food coloring, superhero movies,
the siren eyes of alcohol,
busted guitar strings, empty ink cartridges,
lines of reasoning, rusty pipes.
humidity, bills, neighbors,
the borrowed book that’s never returned,
the never again good times,
Fox news, a friend’s divorce,
religions that kill,
that render their believers brain dead,
the cost of replenishing those ink cartridges,
dentists, big game hunters, Brad Pitt,
the worn-out soles of my shoes,
cigarette butts strewn across the lawn,
dog shit on the sidewalk,
some long ago incident that
occupies the space between us.
It won’t leave,
would rather stay,
be more annoying than the competition.

 
 

 
 
John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident, recently published in Soundings East, Dalhousie Review and Connecticut River Review. Latest book, “Leaves On Pages” is available through Amazon.
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Robin Ouzman Hislop is Editor of Poetry Life and Times at Artvilla.com ; his publications include
 
All the Babble of the Souk , Cartoon Molecules, Next Arrivals and Moon Selected Audio Textual Poems, collected poems, as well as translation of Guadalupe Grande´s La llave de niebla, as Key of Mist and the recently published Tesserae , a translation of Carmen Crespo´s Teselas.
 
You may visit Aquillrelle.com/Author Robin Ouzman Hislop about author. See Robin performing his work Performance (University of Leeds)

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SHOWER-CAP. A Poem by John Grey

 

A shower-cap absolves the hair but the spirit dampens,
as droplets of water struggle to make melody on lips,
then fall, for no other purpose than to inhabit space,
like corpses, like the dead reaching for the towel;
between woman and water, there remains;
a grace of rubbing under the armpits,
stroking the back, almost a song in the throat
but no: sorrow would never yield to joy.
Not in a bathroom. Not in a face that
fears so hard, so willfully, the steamed-up mirror.
A shower-cap is not a hole in which a woman might hide.
It is not a shining circle where God makes his rounds.
And it’s neither peace, nor murder,
just something to fit neatly when nothing else will.
But body dry, towel hung on the rack, bathrobe
tightened around the waist, cap comes off,
hair falls down upon her shoulders.
She’s arthritic, seventy-five, widowed, wrinkled and gray.
So there you have it. The cap’s off.
Are you pleased with yourselves, voyeurs.
 
 

 
 
John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident. Recently published in the Homestead Review, Harpur Palate and Columbia Review, Dunes Review, Poetry East and North Dakota Quarterly with work upcoming in Haight-Ashbury Literary Journal, Thin Air, Dalhousie Review.
 
 
 
 
 
Robin Ouzman Hislop is Editor of Poetry Life and Times ; his publications include
 
All the Babble of the Souk , Cartoon Molecules and Next Arrivals, collected poems, as well as translation of Guadalupe Grande´s La llave de niebla, as Key of Mist and the recently published Tesserae , a translation of Carmen Crespo´s Teselas.
 
You may visit Aquillrelle.com/Author Robin Ouzman Hislop about author. See Robin performing his work Performance (University of Leeds)

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RESURRECTION. A Poem by John Grey

 

In sleep, my brain
devours all cancer-causing agents,
delivers to the world
this woman
whole and fully functional.
 
And yet I wake to
tubes zig-zagging out of limp arms,
liquid pumped through her body
but doing nothing for that
sad, deserted face.
 
The morning is
a Jesus in a white coat
failing to replicate
whatever worked with Lazarus.
 
Yes, there are times when dreams
have it all over religion.
 

 
John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident. Recently published in the Homestead Review, Harpur Palate and Columbia Review with work upcoming in the Roanoke Review, the Hawaii Review and North Dakota Quarterly.
 
 
 
 
 
Robin Ouzman Hislop is Editor of Poetry Life and Times ; his publications include
 
All the Babble of the Souk , Cartoon Molecules and Next Arrivals, collected poems, as well as translation of Guadalupe Grande´s La llave de niebla, as Key of Mist and the recently published Tesserae , a translation of Carmen Crespo´s Teselas.
 
You may visit Aquillrelle.com/Author Robin Ouzman Hislop about author. See Robin performing his work Performance (University of Leeds)

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Hermit. A Poem by John Grey

 
 
I inhabit a desolate, weather-beaten place
accessible only to sorrow,
a necessary dwelling of course
based on current situation and future prospects.
 
And perhaps I will succeed as a place-dweller
where the place doesn’t promise much,
and the horizon is cut off by bramble-cover
and I’ve just this small surface to occupy.
 
At this stage of life, no possibilities remain
and I have stiffened into a man
who is so accustomed to the silence,
now he is its biggest booster.
 
In my rooms, my companions are
a winter sun that shines bleakly,
a wish to be left alone so powerful
that no other wishes survive.
 
 
John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident. Recently published in the Tau, Studio One and Columbia Review with work upcoming in Leading Edge, Examined Life Journal and Midwest Quarterly.
 
 
 
 
Robin Ouzman Hislop is Editor of Poetry Life and Times his publications include All the Babble of the Souk and Cartoon Molecules collected poems and Key of Mist the recently published Tesserae translations from Spanish poets Guadalupe Grande and Carmen Crespo  visit Aquillrelle.com/Author Robin Ouzman Hislop about author.  See Robin performing his work Performance (Leeds University) .

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RICARDO’S FATHER. A Poem by John Grey

 

Hair crowded his body:

facial hair, chest hair,

hair through the back of his hands.

He was always a frozen transformation scene

from “The Wolf-Man.”

He had so little skin.

How do you love a man

who sprouts more than he towers,

like loving Renoir for the paint

Bergman for the celluloid.
 

My own father

would shave in the morning

and be done with it.

Hair was easily contained.

I could make connection

between his cheeks and mouth arid chin..

His chest was brown and clear

from working in the sun.

And I could see the strength in his hands,

felt what lifted me.
 

Ricardo confided in me

that his father could not find work,

and I figured it was because

no one would ever hire such a jungle.

He added that his parents were separated,

Once again, how do you love

the camouflaged man?

He said he saw him just on weekends,

looked forward to

those bright, sunny Saturdays.

He spoke of razors of warmth and light.

 
 
 
File0004
 
John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident. Recently published in New Plains Review, South Carolina Review, Stillwater Review and Big Muddy Review with work upcoming in Louisiana Review, Cape Rock and Spoon River Poetry Review.
 
 
 
 
www.facebook.com/PoetryLifeTimes
 
robin@artvilla.com
editor@artvilla.com

 
Key of Mist. Guadalupe Grande.Translated.Amparo Arróspide.Robin Ouzman Hislop
 
goodreads.com/author/show/Robin Ouzman Hislop
http://www.aquillrelle.com/authorrobin.htm
http://www.amazon.com. All the Babble of the Souk. Robin Ouzman Hislop
www.lulu.com. All the Babble of the Souk. Robin Ouzman Hislop
https://www.amazon.com/author/robinouzmanhislop
http://www.innerchildpress.com/robin-ouzman-hislop.All the Babble of the Souk

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GAS STATION. A Poem by John Grey

 
 
 
Straw hat’s busted
and the blue and red flag’s dragging on its pole.
The road’s as narrow as a plumb line
and the sides are baked brick hard.
Rusty gas pump only offers regular.
In the window, brown and speckled eggs,
soda bottles, a can of oil.
Unshaven Ed flops in his chair out front
Straw hat can’t keep back July,
cakes his brow a stinky yellow.
A car creeps by but doesn’t stop.
Maybe can’t read the price of gas.
Ed’s handwriting’s shaky
as his mortgage payments.
May’s quilting, the only thing
her fingers know to do.
Despite the heat, her handiwork
rolls up to her wrinkled chin, almost smothers her.
And here comes Vernon,
just who Ed don’t want to hear.
So Dewey’s got a new computer.
Tell that to the chamber of commerce.
Another car rolls by. And another.
Someone even waves.
Straw hat’s raised in answer, in anger,
then flopped down sideways on Ed’s head.
Go help your grandmother, Ed says.
Steam rises from the swamps,
raccoon pans the trash for food,
wood-stork chatters from a cypress branch.
Vernon creeps reluctantly indoors.
May stops her quilting for a kiss,
struggles to remember who exactly is this boy.
Along comes Temple to complain
about the weather and business and his wife.
Ed listens but his ear is cocked for cars the more.
He straightens his straw hat.
Brim holds by a thread.
How long you had that thing? asks Temple.
Forty years, says Ed. It brings me luck.

 
 
 
File0004
 
John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident. Recently published in New Plains Review, South Carolina Review, Stillwater Review and Big Muddy Review with work upcoming in Louisiana Review, Cape Rock and Spoon River Poetry Review.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
www.facebook.com/PoetryLifeTimes
www.facebook.com/Artvilla.com
robin@artvilla.com
editor@artvilla.com

 
 
Key of Mist. Guadalupe Grande.Translated.Amparo Arróspide.Robin Ouzman Hislop
 
goodreads.com/author/show/Robin Ouzman Hislop
http://www.aquillrelle.com/authorrobin.htm
http://www.amazon.com. All the Babble of the Souk. Robin Ouzman Hislop
www.lulu.com. All the Babble of the Souk. Robin Ouzman Hislop
https://www.amazon.com/author/robinouzmanhislop
http://www.innerchildpress.com/robin-ouzman-hislop.All the Babble of the Souk

 

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CHILDLESS. A Poem by John Grey

 
What’s her name again – Deirdre Lyn.
She goes to law school. She plays field hockey
Summers spark with
the sheer will of her being.
Septembers are softer now
than a head on a pillow.
 
But then I feel your stomach
and you shake your head.
A tear emerges from your right eye,
the closest your body ever comes
to giving birth.
 
So I must watch over her
with my eyes shut.
Nail my lips together
to encourage her dreams.
Squeeze her to my chest
until she’s thinner than
the shirt I wear.
 
Deirdre Lyn – she comes to me in a dream
and says she’s met someone.
Yes, she met me.
And no one else ever.

 
 
File0004
 
 
John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident. Recently published in New Plains Review, South Carolina Review, Gargoyle and Big Muddy Review with work upcoming in Louisiana Review, Cape Rock and Spoon River Poetry Review. To view more of his work www.motherbird.com & www.artvilla.com
 
 
 
www.facebook.com/PoetryLifeTimes
www.facebook.com/Artvilla.com
robin@artvilla.com
editor@artvilla.com

 
goodreads.com/author/show/Robin Ouzman Hislop
http://www.aquillrelle.com/authorrobin.htm
http://www.amazon.com. All the Babble of the Souk. Robin Ouzman Hislop
www.lulu.com. All the Babble of the Souk. Robin Ouzman Hislop
https://www.amazon.com/author/robinouzmanhislop
http://www.innerchildpress.com/robin-ouzman-hislop.All the Babble of the Souk

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