Meditation Sense

by

Chris Crittenden

wooed by air
that tiptoes
a staircase of temperature,
creeping up and down
my body's slopes,

merging with aches,
numbing or spicing them,
slackening pores,
rooting under nerves

like curious
puckish heat.

i'm a piano
with untold keys
fused into seamless
swells and ebbs-
so many fingertips
of relic and memento,

glissandos in strewn sprays
through my tuned spine,
mingling with minstrels
of joy, with the fervor
of Mingus-

mingling and evaporating,
playing my organs,
humming my coccyx.

 

 

Chris Crittenden is a hermit living in a remote area of Maine, but travels to Los Angeles to see his father. Some recent acceptances are from: Boston Literary Magazine, Main Street Rag, Drunken Boat and “Walt’s Corner,” a literary column in the Long Island Newspaper, founded by Walt Whitman. He’s scheduled to be interviewed on Poets Café, a radio program of KPFK in Los Angeles, where he intends to mention the wonderful team at The Rose & Thorn.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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