Through a Poet's I — gary rasberry

Through a Poet’s I

Through a Poet’s I. A way of seeing but also a way of being that will always lead to poetry and to the making of poems. Three collections of poems later, I continue to aspire to live in the place where words become music.

As Though it could be Otherwise (IdeaManufactory, 2011), More Naked than Ever (Hidden Brook Press, 2013) and Some Days Just Noticing (Wintergreen Press, 2017) are now complemented by Polishing Stone: The Collected Lyrics (Wintergreen Press, 2019).

Eye seem to have a Poet’s I. One I down the road. One eye out for beauty. Always and Ever.

As Though it Could be Otherwise

Read the full poem ‘Not Really a List’ here.
Read the full poem ‘Day Spent Sailing’ here.

Finding Form

Of course this is how it must begin:
standing on any green hill
at the mercy of all blue rivers,
reinventing the colours of sky.
Three perfect ravens.

Waiting for the moon
to find a form for the planet’s giving way:
shade born out of light.

As a matter of course,
the palette gives and receives
in combinations until the body
is no longer a body.

Whisper the incantation
as it was given, as breath.

Walk around the canvas three times,
counterclockwise for luck and momentum.

Wind the world up until
it spins on spit and sweat
and the bloody pitch of a fallen

pine aware of nothing but
the first drop of rain repeating
itself—three times counterclockwise,
putting the hex on cliché: out of the blue

words fall on open fields,
plant themselves and wait
for the world to imagine itself

out of a seed or run its course like an
avalanche down a garden path
ripping up colour as it goes.

More Naked Than Ever

Read the full poem ‘Writing Songs’ here.
Read the full poem ‘Half-full For Sure’ here.

Through a Poet’s I

Eye seem to have a poet’s I.
Not for any particular rhyme or

reason. Maybe it’s just because
I have always been

will always be
unfinished.

Uncomfortable in happiness.
Incomplete in unhappiness.

Confident in
introspection.

One I down the road.

One eye out for beauty:
Always and Ever.

Some Days Just Noticing

Read the full poem ‘October 22-24’ here.

September 12-14

September 12

Finally a day of heavy rains. The spell has been broken. Winds, warm and blustery, toss summer about. Little waves on street puddles. The language of umbrellas spoken along the sidewalks. Loosely translated: there’s not a lot to worry about right now but wait. Just wait. The spell has been broken.

September 13

Rain curtains the windows. A candle lights the way. Our bodies are music made for nighttime listening. The moon will not show this evening. Nor will we be watching for it. The stars have been folded into clouds for safekeeping. The windows are curtains of rain. The way lit by a candle. Music made for nighttime listening. Our bodies.

September 14

The light’s not here to greet you in quite the same way this morning. It’s not the window blinds. It’s not you. It’s the light. And don’t expect tomorrow will be better. It’s a trick of the light. The planet’s tilt. A cosmic joke of sorts. Played out each year. Year in. Year out. It’s a joke you’ll never get used to. One you’ll find less and less humorous as the years slide by. There’s always plenty of light until it’s dark. You’re on the planetary treadmill. Not certain whether to walk faster or slower. Sunrise. Sunset. The squeeze happens at day’s end, too. It’s all very manageable right now. And this year might not be so bad? But it’s just a matter of time. Eventually, the sun will no longer slide toward the horizon before taking a graceful bow and setting. No. Soon it will just stone drop without ceremony. And you’ll stop waiting for the show. You’ll wonder why you feel tired in the morning. Not quite ready to start the day. You’ll wonder why you feel tired in the evening. Quite ready to end the day. Soon you’ll be left in the dark. It’s not you. It’s the light.