Conspiracy

Written by Garrison Benson in Poetry on Saturday, August 6, 2016.
Here in the place you left
I step watchfully
through the days of your absence
and begin to recognize
a pattern: slight but unmistakable
suggestions, unlikely coincidences
among the day's arrangement of smiles
and daylight and flashes of delight.
Here, in the place you left
longing, a conspiracy vast ...

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Rain

Written by Garrison Benson in Poetry on Thursday, July 21, 2016.
During this dry spell
watch this farmer.
Too much rain is depression.
Not enough
and with every passing rainless day
the smile grows hollower,
eye contact grows briefer,
and the movements of my body
grow rigid and clumsy.

In this sunny summer
I smiled,
I grew,
and with God's ...

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Three Deep Breaths

Written by Garrison Benson in Poetry on Wednesday, July 13, 2016.
Reading the news
and all the angry discussion
about which lives matter
enough to be angry about, particularly,
and which lives matter not
particularly but only beneath
a blanket statement of generalized compassion
(assuming compassion and prayer
are a zero-sum game),
I keep thinking
about my body
and about three ...

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Dog Days

Written by Garrison Benson in Poetry on Monday, July 4, 2016.
On these dog days
beneath the haze
I can just barely hear
the wordless voice
of the shy creature:

Stay with me.

The summer air is soupy
with memory and conflicting auspices.
The mouth quavers, anticipating
melons. The mind is lazy and eager
to be anywhere else.

Clouds form and ...

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Watermelon

Written by Garrison Benson in Poetry on Sunday, June 12, 2016.
How do we know
the presence of the Friend
draws near?
On a stump
at the edge of the field, someone
is opening a melon.
Every body knows.

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