Adam Chesler
Winter Melt Issue 2009
Leaving 31401
I want to walk out of here with you
inside my arms
to better these aching bones and joints
to feel the fire of muscles
sliding inside bruised skin
I want to walk with you.
if you can believe in stones
in the magic surrounding
our every moment every day presence
in this place
to trust in the fields, waters, mountains
the derelict houses on streets lined
with hungry humans
to know we are coming soon to see
the exploding cities
faces with smiles and frowns
the burning questions of raised fists and open arms
calling us home to the enveloping light storm
lifting up streets pavement after pavement
let Her bathe in the sun!
let the propelling winds catch you
in the night and
spring you forth today
I want to walk with you.
When I'm Abducted
All signs can be posted back to the man who broke his neck, laughing,
the wisdom in his mouth
All signs can be posted back to the man who broke his neck, laughing,
the wisdom in his mouth
All signs can be posted back to the man who broke his neck, laughing,
the wisdom in his mouth
the wise sounds
black feet on the earth
shuffling up the dust
thick and tight the air breathes
and listens
while millions die in their name
that puffy stomach hiding
monster gold coins
slices flesh and licks
blood on the blade
half of us will know
half of us will come
feet moving to the loathsome squall
painted signs read:
they never let us live anyway
they never let us live anyway
they never let us live
half moon half croon half back against the spoon
Mister Ed stands around the riverbed
chewing and spitting tobacco
his unwashed, spiked hair hides
below a Georgia Bulldogs cap
he signals and the green alien hands lift me
high into the air walking on the murky water
day turns night
and each tree branch slices another triangular hole
in my ribcage the snakes flick their tongues
waltzing in a tango, they grind bellies together
their razor tongues licking my lungs
as i tremble, i cough up a few baby ones
still slimy
my neck and wrists shake
lung fluid and snake scales drip and slither out of my voice box
All signs can be posted back to the man who broke his neck, laughing,
the wisdom in his mouth
the wisdom in his mouth
whirling
whirling into the scabbed noises
caught in their lake-front cottages
a million tat-a-tat-tat
tattered
insects
| Adam Chesler is a poet and fiction writer living in Atlanta, GA. He has published one collection of poetry, Skeleton Street. |
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