Rain

Written by Garrison Benson in Poetry on Thursday, July 21, 2016.
It's been sunny and dry.
Too much rain is depression.
Not enough—with every passing
rainless day your smile
gets a little hollower
and it's harder to sustain
eye contact. Watch any farmer.

The summer's been sunny.
For good reasons
I've smiled a lot,
I've ...

Continue reading »


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 ...

Continue reading »


Dog Days

Written by Garrison Benson in Poetry on Monday, July 4, 2016.
On these dog days,
under 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 ...

Continue reading »


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.

Continue reading »


Reunion

Written by Garrison Benson in Poetry on Friday, May 27, 2016.
To greet you
in our reunion
I'd been saving
a moment
over a slow cup of tea,
but I gave it
to the cooling evening
before last.

The footsteps I'd take
when I saw you
at the fence, kissing
the ground with my toes,
not wanting to disturb ...

Continue reading »