Journal entries scrawled in black ink,
smeared by rainfall,
as only a fool would write outside

Only a fool would get glowstick gel
on his hands

I found a plastic fish that's meant to
go on my keychain; I lost
my keychain in the summer of '07

It's been too long since I've really been alone
and I'm tasting it again

It's salt on my fingertips
It's words I can't vocalize
Carnal
Primal
Dead

Love-lit eyes shining silver words to her
The moon was the sky's sin
That night the poet's lips told how the skin breathes
      

    Dear Frost,
     The willow hung left and skewed among stars
Flesh will flower a God,
                                Her tongue that of a dragon's,
And her body drumming hell's waltz
      What's wrong with having dark ashen wings?
              Darling,
                               Silence hung in the universe just as much as hate.
      And I bargained my way to the window,
                Just to watch an angel fall to the burning mountain side.
                             A new bloodstream was born


Lungs have lied their last lisp
Secrets pointed to tiger stones,
But within that emerald hilt I saw divinity.
Sleeves catching the sunset
And in a bag I held her self-pity.

Loyalty counters, blooming a Lord.
Cancer bound in her heart

If we make it through the night,
         Then maybe we'll make it through the war.

Despair shifted, grasping her hope
As if she hadn't already sacrificed enough.
A sickness spreads like embers in hay
The evening casted her away in that grown snow
I'm sorry that destiny gave a visit
A candle burning the horizon in her eyes

"Legend has it,
      he could talk the sun
          into setting."              

Aye, but a forgotten myth stirring in the depths
Her eyes now held that of moonshine

**"Myth be told,
      he could talk the moon,
           into rising."

A woman that strikes me as down to Earth
Can revive the parts that were previously unearthed
Everything they are would be wonderful to be apart of me
I Want to live on a street with your name on it
But i won't put hard concrete on your roads
How about something softer?
I think i see a few toads
I'll make sure your roads stay clean
And the Houses are better than the ones in your dreams.

The innoncence is dying inside of me
With every exposure to evil tearing it out
No purpose in sewing these wounds
It's universally seen as normal
To lose an optimistic outlook

After this year it'll be completely vanished
I'll share the same laughter
But it will never reverberate again
Not after my innocence comes to an end

Does it matter that I exist?
Somewhere beyond hope,
Where the air hangs thin.

Does it matter? When I hide myself
behind a mask
and that mask
inside a box
and that box in a shadow
too dark to be found,
Or noticed?

Does it matter that I wait
a torn canvas in the rain?
Waiting for the brush to hit home and hit hard.
So numb I forget to feel the pain.

Does it matter? When the wounds have healed and you’ve moved on.
But the scars remain.
Name forgotten,
I don’t have to pretend.
The cracked eyes and whisky smile hide who I am.

But if I soared into your fence I'd be electrocuted in an instant.
Nevermind the environmentalists several miles off in the distance.
They can't save me.
They've got their own sinister agendas.
In some way we can trace all the blame back to Brenda.
That *****.

“We make our meek adjustments,
    Contented with such random consolations
    As the wind deposits in slithered and too ample pockets.”

               Hart Crane, “Chaplinesque”

A footstool in the desert.
A napkin in the netherworld.
A coffee stain in the margin.
Perfumed remains.
Systematic garnish.
Dorothy Stratten climbing Mt. Suribachi.
My late father’s toenail clippers.
Pale clouds over Slauson Avenue on the day after the L.A. riots.
A rhetoric of purpose.
A philosophy of decay.
A poem written to an audience of one.

©David Adamson 2015

I've got this feeling
That I can't put into words
But I'll try my best
As these thoughts come in herds
Circling 'round my head
And landing in my heart
While I'm laying in bed
Thinking just of you