Flamenco at the Thirsty Bear. Jim Gunshinan

About Jim Gunshinan

 • The Artificial Heart
 • Heroes
 • Geography Lessons
 • Blue Cornflowers
 • Living by Water
 • Upon This Rock
 • The Man Dad Brought
    Home from the War
 • Physics
 • Black and White
 • Not the Mom We Were
    Used To
 • Nothing Sacred
 • Spring
 • Transformation
 • Please Straighten That Up
 • Up from Depression
 • What the Body Wants
 • Compassion
 • Commute
 • Kiss Me
 • Starter Castles
 • Flamenco at the Thirsty
 • A Nature Poem
 • Portrait of a Woman from
   the Gardens of Egypt in the
   First Century




When I was seventeen I came home drunk
and before going inside
ran laps around the family Impala

parked in the driveway.
Made circles hiking in Tilden Park
around the pain of leaving the priesthood.

I learned this becoming a man
running back and forth in gymnasiums
around cinder tracks

and in steamy weight rooms
trying to get stronger and numb
at the same time.

At the beginning of my new life
I fall at night into the little death
of sleep, insistent dreams

inviting me to remember the body’s pain
passion and joy
that is like the sap

of a juniper tree, rising—
becoming grey-blue berries,
then medicine.

  © Jim Gunshinan, 2013


Back to top