In the heresies at hand and afterward
the winter suns set carefully
amid jungles of bulky houses
lining oddly soft steel rails.
Comfort keeps the bliss of solstice
on all the platforms.
Faraway rumours echo of wide screens
locked on channels, doors
really of a novel Bedlam,
gloomish, smoked, and frigid
so nobody can ever touch the badlands
so artfully upheld in alternative mediums.
The remoteness amid these places
couldn’t be guessed at, whether the Mozart
performed here gets precious air time there.
At the foot of another decaying wall,
where pale weeds grow over old pauper’s burials,
an array of sacraments and commandments erupt,
unwelcome bubbles belching from secret corners,
a drink falsely labeled medicinal.
If only the hibernating tombstones
could be grown a few feet, a moment
so brief, sudden, and withheld
the next dusk would accidentally trod upon it.
After some years, the narcotic idea of ‘home’
hasn’t stuck. Hardly a problem, Santa says,
if some other place were on the countryside,
outside the harsh dark of ceilings that inch closer
through the night. There are so many murmuring
Nots out there it’s hard to imagine
a wilderness isn’t named for them;
In their own language – pious, sardonic, confessive –
each of the invisible suns laugh.
Adam Henry Carrière is an online habitué specializing in letters, publishing design, and instruction. A former NPR broadcaster, he holds a BA in Film & Video from Columbia College and an MA in Professional Writing from the University of Southern California. He has taught writing at both his alma mater and for the United States Navy across the Pacific. Born on the South Side of Chicago, Adam resides in Las Vegas, where he has won the Nevada Arts Council Fellowship in Poetry. He styles as Verleger / Herausgeber of Danse Macabre, Nevada’s first online literary magazine, and DM du Jour, its daily gazette (which you may have heard of). He is the author of Miles (2013) Faschingslieder (2014) and Shant (2017).