Tag Archives: Brynn Saito

Poem of the Week, by Brynn Saito – Trembling on the Brink of a Mesquite Tree via Alison McGhee


And the Lord said Surprise me, so I moved to LA.
After packing my posters and scrubbing the bathroom and bidding goodbye
to the permanent circus, I drove through The South
with its womb-like weather, and I drove through the center
with its cross-hatched streams, and the century unspooled
like a wide, white road with lines for new writing
and the century unspooled like a spider’s insides
and the country was a cipher, so I voted my conscience.
And the country was a carton of twelve rotten eggs.
And the country was a savior—come deliver us from evil!—
and my car burned a scar across the back of an angel
and yes, I was afraid. No I’ve never gone hungry, but I’ve woken alone
with a ghost in my throat and I’ve been like the child
who’s sure she perceives some creature in the dark—
some night-breathing thing—and I know there is something I can almost see …
But the future’s a bright coin spinning in sunlight
so fast that it’s sparking a flame in the grass, and who knows
where they’ll find me—on which sunken highway?—so I’m writing this poem
to remember my name. And I’m writing this poem
to let something go, in the mode of surrender, since God
needs a ritual, like kissing needs another, or a knife needs the softness
of a melon in summer, and leaving New York is like leaving
the circus, and entering America is like entering a fortress,
flooded by soda and we float to the bars in our giggling terror
and driving from one shore across to another?
That’s one sign for freedom, one small stab at change,
so when the Lord said Surprise me, I moved to LA.

A big thanks to Alison McGhee for curating these beautiful poems.
For more information on Brynn Saito, please click here:

My blog: alisonmcghee.com/blog

My Facebook page: http://www.facebook.com/home.php?#!/pages/Alison-McGhee/119862491361265?ref=ts


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Poem of the Week: The Palace of Contemplating Departure by Brynn Saito via Alison Mcghee


You wandered through my life like a backwards wish
when I was ready for deliverance.

I was ready for release
like a pinball in God’s mouth
like charanga on Tuesdays
like the summer in Shanghai

when we prayed for a rainstorm
and bartered our shame, then we tore open oranges
with four dirty thumbs.

And the forecast said Super
so we chartered a yacht
and we planted a garden on the unbending prow

but the sea said Surrender
with its arms full of salt, and wind shook the seeds
from our shirt coat pockets

so when we washed up on the shoreline of sunlight
near the city of wind
we were broken and thin, like wraiths at a wake.

But you tilted your head up and told me I was wild
so I lifted my life
and I lifted your life

and we wandered through the gate of radiant days
then we married our splendor
in the hall of bright rule.

And I thank you again: you gave madness a chance
and you lassoed the morning
and we met on a Tuesday
in a dance hall in Shanghai
and I left you in a leap year for the coveted shoreline

and you wept like a book when it’s pulled from a well.

But you were the one who told me I was wild
and you were the one who wrestled the angel

and I knew when I left you
that courage was a choice
and memory, a spear,
and the X of destination is etched on my iris
and shifts with the seasons—

don’t think of the phoenix, think of the mountain.

But where will I go now with my tireless wonder?
And when will I again be brave like that?

For more information on Brynn Saito, please click here: http://brynnsaito.com/

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/home.php?#!/pages/Alison-McGhee/119862491361265?ref=ts

A big thanks to Alison McGhee for her tireless pursuit of beautiful word castles.


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Poem of the Week – Match (excerpt) by Brynn Saito via Alison McGhee

You live in a house of sound and you live
with a ghost. The one who stole your heart
also lives in your heart so you cut it out
with a carving knife and send it flying.
You say sometimes you wake and wait
for the god of loneliness to leave you alone.
I say our city is small and teeming
with ghosts and there are no seasons
for hiding. So we let go of the ones
who called us by our names. We make
ourselves new names by tracing letters
in a sand tray with sharp stones.
This is called Patience or Practicing
Solitude or The Wind Will Ruin Everything
but what does it matter let’s go for beauty
every time. You say the price we pay for love
is loss. I say the price we pay for love
is love.

Many thanks to Alison McGhee for curating these beautiful poems.
For more information on Brynn Saito, please click here: http://brynnsaito.com/bio/

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/home.php?#!/pages/Alison-McGhee/119862491361265?ref=ts

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