Adam Day




Day is late and has
no horse. Icicles

on concertina wire. Blue ridges          
blackening. Buoy bells

in fog; groaning
pylons. Boat hidden

in cape reeds. A body
neatly disposed of

floating to the surface. Plank
in reason. Doesn't fuck with

what comes up.




Sunset fires
a sodden sky

and the linear ache
of pine shadows

at city's horizon.
Bells come like boats

over oil-slicks, milkweed
hulls. And neighbor

slumped, drunk
against wood shingles; buoy

in a city of sharks
and sailors.




"Samadhi" acutely twists a line from [Dickinson's poem 340]

"Gyodo Shoal" borrows from and is devoted to the musical collective [June of 44]'s song ["Sharks and Sailors"]