How Dangerous, this Sharing of Ourselves
a Collection of Five Poems
by Cary Gray
We each reach in, I hope;
we each step, steep on, walk off,
We all leave effects,
we affect and seek affection
And in our microcosm personal, we
Often unawares see others’
raw and wanting.
We each reach out, or can;
we muster, marshal creative movement
to pique the humor or mind
and we hope,
c o n n e c t.
We cope & hope alone;
in tandem we fly.
There’s enough pasta
at the store,
aisles & aisles.
Let’s make our own.
Where screens separate
and the warmth was
never more warranted
To Be Known
We grow up with skin, thick or thin.
We’re modeled how to love and withhold.
We’re shown how to adult, its modes,
its quiet screaming from within.
We’re patted on the head for not expressing.
You express with strength and presence,
softly measured from within,
so that others don’t search within you.
You act so that you can be seen
Without being deeply seen.
It’s been quite safe inside, I know,
But where else can you go?
How else can you be known?
First Poem for a Busker
The wicker basket woven on the spot.
The heart held out for all to see.
A way of being & becoming & bequeathing
upon listeners, willing and passing,
the invitation to p a u s e.
Pausing comes where no stalls sell,
where no number counts,
on park benches and in well-worn hats,
vibrations bouncing from concrete & grass.
Yet, wheresoever the music abounds,
for those who see & hear,
the best music busked unfolds
Second Poem for a Busker
a room full, head full
from quiet emerge notes
taken & given from the cosmic sweetness
translated for no one & everyone.
invisible enough that not
a person around wants or expects,
such that you can surprise from heart.
an army of fingers
hope open the lines, the chords,
little strings from your guts
onto eyeballs that couldn’t have known
you or yours or your heart