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Phoenix Jun 2019
...My soul could float high enough to kiss the sky.
I used to have a fear of falling,
but now I've never been more excited to fly.
I love you.
David Adamson Jul 2016
“Up above my head
I hear music in the air
I really do believe
I really do believe
there's a Heaven somewhere”
--Rhiannon Giddens

“Is that all there is?”
--Peggy Lee*

An old philosopher told me this:

“About heaven.
Let’s say there’s more than one.
There’s the one where souls
are lurid with perfection,
piled into bliss,
dreaming of change.

“There’s the one people search for
to fit the story they tell themselves.
I looked for it.  I watched the sky.
I found only words.  Blue sky is
a blank page.  Clouds are garish metaphors.

“Then there’s one that follows you.
Don’t look for it. You can’t find it.
It’s not a place or a path.
It dances at the edge of things
like old photos or a young face
that lives remembered in its older one,
an eternal moment always at hand
trailing like a thought balloon,
a shadow cast by nothing,
forever unfolding, never now.”
David Adamson Jan 2016
9

In the garden hard with frost
sits an old man with furrowed eyes
staring at old decorations
dangling from branches
overhung with snow.

His forced breath sinks into fog.
He cannot feel
the rising of a warmer wind
or the furrowed ground
beneath his feet
poised to ooze life.

I am afraid of his eyes.
I turn away when he looks up
at the waves of geese returning,
thawing the ground with their shadows.
David Adamson Dec 2015
The course of a cloud is not my course.
The void of the sky is not my void.
The shifting wind’s not blowing in my direction.
Life is no longer up in the air.

Today the lines in my hand are my map.
All roads lead everywhere.
Today there is no walking away,
Only walking.
Merry Christmas, fellow poets!
David Adamson Nov 2015
6
After the casseroles from anxious neighbors
And the flowers stopped arriving
And a last aging aunt blubbered goodbye,
I left the silent house,
Drove to the foothills
And began to climb.
Atop your favorite peak,
I opened the urn
And gave your ashes to the sky.
Will I ever stop wondering where you’ve gone?
The light was changing
As I descended into
The mountain's immense shadow.
Thanks for hanging with me on these sky poems...have almost exhausted all possible reasons for looking skyward.
David Adamson Oct 2015
4
Through pinpricks
In the vault of night,
The desires of sleeping souls
Seep upward into a second sky
Where they flare into infinitude
Like our longing for God.

— The End —