America First

Written by Garrison Benson in Poetry on Thursday, January 26, 2017.
The man in the White House
is building a wall,
closing our borders,
putting America First.

And I am putting myself first.
I declare independence.
Among my people
I carve out
my place. Mine.
My land, my time, my art,
my opinion, my religion,
my boundaries.
These are my LEGOs ...

Continue reading »

Realization as I wash my feet

Written by Garrison Benson in Poetry on Saturday, January 14, 2017.
If I ended up
the rest of my life
like this—
making more space
for you

in my heart,
in the moments
with my breakfast,
with the dishes,
with the music,
with my feet,

—and I died
and you never did come back,

that would be
a full ...

Continue reading »

The Wordless Place

Written by Garrison Benson in Poetry on Monday, December 19, 2016.
On good mornings, I wake
and start with faithful work
to build the wordless place:
two mugs of coffee, two slabs of butter,
cushioned space where a body
can recognize itself.

I do not think
therefore I am not
a hero or a failure
or a laborer
or a mind ...

Continue reading »

November Nine

Written by Garrison Benson in Poetry on Wednesday, November 9, 2016.
Why did I wait
till now,
till I'm watching in horror
as these hidden elements
of my Self
revolt, finally finding their voice
in dysfunction?
It's so clear now:

When this part wanted to cry
I smiled.
When this part flushed with desire
I stiffened my spine.
When ...

Continue reading »

In the Morning

Written by Garrison Benson in Poetry on Friday, October 21, 2016.
I swear
bipolar disorder is worth it
just for the mornings
unforeseen, undispellable
underwear dancing.

Continue reading »