Psalm: And The Light


And the light               the light I do not mourn          is a lean-to

         Below the night sky                 Punctured night sky now                    

Farewell poppies                    Farewell                     throated-sun               

                 A lake behind the dunes                  hidden behind a sigh of sand      

A kneel darling a bending of the knees a back broken tiny prayer of sparrow

         Healed                Repaired          A penny for my Lord

An autopsied tree         grown divine  

                    under the flickering light of this room

            All of these things                and more




Psalm: As If I Could


As if I could stare into the woods long enough to make you appear

          A tree holds your form  A form holds itself only as long as an eye

is present                 The sky cries out                    

          But its cry can’t keep its volume

constant           Scent of fire       Ash in a box             Bones             

be carried off by Carrion Crows                       Adapt to the grip of air                       

          As if I could remain silent with the noise all around              

As if the weight of a deity on my back could whisper mortality in one ear      

                    Out the other 
                                        Let a voice precede each disaster       

Let reverence               live forever




Psalm: Siphoned Sky


Siphoned sky                 Certain smoke           Hesitation          Ground to tiny bits

          Lately late river             Grasp of ice          

Darling expanse                       To think regret                        And mean mend

                    Inward forecast                       light snow                    Light

Forecast                     Glass man                                Straw on fire         
                    Atmospheric foyer                   Vestibule of light                    

             Shoes piled wetly                     on each other                          

                    And under each other              Broken ankle              

Removed stain with blood            A laugh turned inside-out              

Adam Clay is the author of The Wash (Parlor Press, 2006) and A Hotel Lobby at the Edge of the World (Milkweed Editions, forthcoming). He lives in Michigan and co-edits Typo Magazine.