Wayne Grayson

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anakephalaiosasthai

Talking
for a whole day.
Pulling words
out of a stranger’s mouth
scooping them up and
into bottles and
twisting on a cap.

( Why are these paragraphs important?
What makes them so special?
Oftentimes it is
nothing and nothing
but that’s not really the point.
Try anyway. )

Jammed.
Again.
“Dammit.
Come on.
Come out.
Fit together.
Sit there beside each other and
make sense.
Just make sense is all I’m asking.”

Here’s the thing. I’ve got all these word bottles rattling around in here and some of them I gathered and some of them were just dropped off.

Word bottles
fetch a price but they
don’t have labels
they just
hold words.

So it’s hard
to tell them apart
and it’s hard to keep
them closed and it’s hard
to decide which
to dump out
and which to
dump out
and
fill back up with
yourself.

It’s hard to break yourself up into words for a bottle you found on a dirt...

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Portfolio

A collection of my writing and produced video highlighting storytelling and explanatory narrative

(Note: Headlines are links to source)

Alberta residents walk away from devastation

Part of The Tuscaloosa News’ Pulitzer-Prize Winning Entry for Breaking News

As scores of her Alberta neighbors walked slowly in a mass exodus west
along University Boulevard on Thursday morning, Brenda Gibson stood
staring across the street at what was once her home. Looking south, a
small white house stood out among the waves of broken trees and
splintered wood, standing but leaning over, its front porch broken in
half.

“It’s demolished,” Gibson said. “I’m still in shock. I’m like ‘Pinch
me. Wake me up.’ This just can’t be true.”

All that Gibson has left, like so many others in Alberta, are the clothes she salvaged from her home, along with a bottle of grape soda and some snacks she pulled from the...

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Hum

It got so late
I’m up early now.
Occasionally
I stop what I’m doing
and stare at my hands
focusing on the very
tips
of my fingers.
Zeroed in on the
ridge of my
fingerprints as they
wobble and twitch.

Is this subtle shaking
the plea of a weary
nervous
system?
Is this
        hum within
    my hands
the only small action
my body can muster as I
again deny it rest?

Or is it the fumes of caffeine
leaving the body like hot
exhaust
from an old tailpipe?

I feel I have lived
my whole life in this
quaking.
Always wondering
whether I should worry
or simply weave
myself in.
Calibrate.
Attenuating to the tremors and
finding stillness in the shakes.

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