"crutching" poems
foam floral caps, work of wet hydrangea,
or pulse of caucasian lilacs in a sky-relieved frieze.
cambric pennons swag reconsidering
margins of wimpling burn,
wherein the stars…twiring stars,
the declining stars, moon and planets
turned--
purchase light with morning-hands:
green-bedizened;
amber trammeling bud.
absolve qualm suffusing tyre,
violet’s violent leniency--
and feel, o’bask! in velvet
flume of veins,
as beams of conspiracy raise
to post and lintel,
crutching a young god’s legs--
and feel, o’supplicate! bathe in
day’s anatomies,
til greave deposit in lacunary sleeves,
and a genuflecting sun bow eternally--
Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 6:38 PM UTC
Crutching my way through the days,
until you come back this way.
Sleepless, harangued, hungry, tight.
Will I make it to the shore without your light?
Jul 3, 2014
Jul 3, 2014 at 1:04 PM UTC
Anne stands
on crutches
in the queue
to be weighed
by a nun
in the home
for sick kids
Skinny Kid
she whispers
to the boy
just in front
if I win
the choc bar
I'll share it
just with you
if you win
who will you
share it with?
you of course
he replies
in soft voice
other kids
up the front
fail to put
on more weight
so don't win
the choc bar
it's you now
Benedict
a nun says
Skinny Kid
stands steady
on the scales
you've put on
5 ounces
she tells him
he gets off
of the scales
and Anne
crutches up
on one leg
her stump swings
underneath
her red dress
steady now
the nun says
Anne stands
as steady
as she can
you've put on
7 ounces
the nun says
so you win
the choc bar
Anne smiles
and crutches
herself off
of the scales
the nun puts
the choc bar
in Anne's
dress pocket
let's go Kid
Anne says
and they go
out the back
on the lawn
she crutching
to the far
white table
and white chairs
with the Kid
beside her
making sure
she's ok
he pulls out
a white chair
and she sits
the Kid sits
beside her
and they share
the choc bar
between them
12 ounces
gained in weight
between them.
May 25, 2015
May 25, 2015 at 2:35 PM UTC
I think back to 5 years ago,
To those days in northern New York,
Where my life felt like some coming-of-age tale,
Coming into my own.
Each day was its own chapter,
Shenanigans and hijinks,
Bar room brawls and short-lived loves,
Drunken tattoos and crutching on snow 2 feet deep,
Barracks parties and field exercise tomfoolery,
Oh, how it all seems like such a dream now.
Fleeing from authorities,
Cackling with buddies as we disappeared into the crowd to make it to the next bar,
Showing up to work on Monday with a recently broken nose, blackened eye, and shit-eating grin,
With my buddies sporting similar signs,
Our First Sergeant taking stock of these injuries,
And walking onward with a little smirk.
Walking through Watertown,
Feeling the age of that military town,
Filled with secondhand stores and oddities,
My God such a surreal dream.
Stuck in bed,
Knee wrapped up in bandages,
Protecting all the stitches beneath,
Looking out the winter at the blizzard outside,
Craving a working leg more than the percocet,
And knowing that the dream was coming to an end.
Jan 7, 2023
Jan 7, 2023 at 12:40 AM UTC
So I told her
Anne said
stomping around
on her crutches
like a demented Amazon
I told her
to go **** herself
Baruch blushed
at the word
his ears tingled
as if they’d been slapped
what did she say?
he asked
she said I’d go to Hell
for using words like that
Anne said
crutching herself down
by the children’s slide
and shooed away
the children playing there
I told her
I’d see her there
she added
Baruch scratched his head
what did Sister Paul
say to that?
she said
if she were my mother
she’d put me
over her knee
Anne laughed
and stomped over
to the children’s swing
where little Miss Sad
was sitting but who fled
as Anne approached
so you aren’t allowed
to go to the beach then?
Baruch asked
no Skinny Kid
or so she said
not to go
without a member of staff
he nodded his head
she pulled a face
he fiddled
with his fingers
she scratched
the stump of her leg
so what do we do?
he asked
his eyes caught
by the exposed
remaining part
of her leg
go to the beach
of course
she said
and stop gawking
at my stump
will you Kid
unless you want
to kiss it
he looked away
back at
the nursing home
behind them
what if she sees us?
she won’t
she couldn’t see a fly
on her nose
Anne retorted
but what if we get caught
down there?
he asked
think positive Kid
we won’t
they won’t miss us
no more than Sister Paul
misses ***
she said
Baruch hesitated
he hated getting
into trouble
felt uneasy
about the deed
shall I get
your wheelchair?
no then they will know
if you go wheeling that
across the grass
no we’ll walk out
the back gate stealthily
she said
he looked at her
and smiled
she stared back
towards the nursing home
he stared
where her stump hung
just beneath
the short skirt
then looked away quick
as she gazed at him
let’s go Kid
and she crutched herself
forward between
the avenue of trees
and he followed
looking back
at the windows
of the home
wondering how many
eyes were there
but she was going on
at a determined rate
not caring a fig
leaving all things
to some unknown god
or fate.
Jul 19, 2013
Jul 19, 2013 at 2:19 AM UTC
Well I'm crutching to the next whiskey bar.
When I get there set my poles down say, "Bucket of Old Style please
and a-whiskey."
Duke's her name and by seven it will be the only thing that matters.
I'm having me a happy hour, then an elated hour.
Then I'm going wherever my bleary eyes take me, crutching along and Jim
on the song.
Well I'm headed to the next whiskey bar, if I don't get there then I won't get
too far.
Yeah I am going to the next whiskey bar.
Jun 26, 2014
Jun 26, 2014 at 5:04 PM UTC
You saw Anne crutching herself
across the lawn as you came out
of the French windows. Sister Paul
was calling after her, but Anne had
crutched further away, her back to
the nun who seemed to stiffen with
anger. You came up beside the nun
and she looked down at you with her
dark eyes. You seem to have some
influence with Anne, tell her I need
her to see the doctor in 5 minutes,
she said. You nodded and said: I'll do
my best Sister, but you know what
she's like once her mind is made up
about something. The nun looked
down the lawn where Anne had sat
herself in one of the white metal chairs
and looked towards the avenue of trees.
Tell her it is about her leg, the nun said
to you, and stormed off, her black habit
flapping like a blackbird learning to fly
and failing. You walked down to where
Anne was sitting and sat beside her in
another white chair. Where's the penguin
gone? Anne said. Inside again, you said,
wants you to see the doctor about your leg.
Anne gazed at you and rubbed her leg stump
with her hands. I'm not see any fecking
quack about my leg; all he wants is to
have a gawk and have a feel, she said.
Maybe he's got your new leg, you said.
**** the leg, she said, looking at her leg
stump where she had pulled up her skirt.
I want my old leg back, not a fecking
pretend leg, she said. You stared at her
stump. But your old leg as gone, you said,
at least you could walk without a crutch
and not be pushed everywhere, you said.
She sighed: all right I'll go see the old ****
but you come with me Kid or I see no one,
she said. Ok, you said, and helped her up,
and she crutched herself back up the lawn
towards the nursing home sour faced, with
you following, the blind following the blind.
Dec 4, 2016
Dec 4, 2016 at 11:28 AM UTC
courting breaths after blue i brighten
i lighten with originless humour
and then ugliness anew
i tighten into some packed pearl of monster
breathe in breathe out courting breaths
the susurration of all this lung
resuscitation and it's 'good morning mourning'
then 'bring out the empathy' ! and zitty connections
and marvel over 'those poor things'
larval in their struggles up the redline
and envision throwing them heaps
of hairdryers salad spinners monopoly boards
vibrating cushions for back massage
and obscure tinned delicacies from my extensive travels
the five devils of my mind tackle my erratic breath
five mad ideas of how to run their lives
milk their hive
form a worship and go to war..
..then it is i who goes larval
carving in on my minuscule heart
crutching in like a fractured pill bug
not daring to raise my eyes
for fear of offending my superiors
breathe in breathe out
counting down the breaths til rattle
Feb 17, 2025
Feb 17, 2025 at 4:48 PM UTC