Dodgeball

In my head I move faster than my body.

When they loose
their red rubber volley,
I transform:

I prance like stag,
I pirouette like prima donna,
I whirl like wind through wild air —
upon the court, I become
a gymnasium trickster god,
laughing and spritely,
more quick and fae
than this big bellied body
has ever known how to be,
I evade every red comet star,

until empty handed and flustered,
a dozen sweating boys
in white sneakers squeak
bewildered at untouchable me

but I was never untouchable,
never stag nor prima donna,
never wild like whirling air,
never tricksy and divine,

I have always been a barnside,
large and marked out bright,
slapped red on my belly
from every missile lobbed.

— Adam Kamerer


Behind The Scenes

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-- Adam Kamerer

Feraling

I am calling you into my temple,
to the deep green forest,
where scattered light
gives way to shadow and moss.

Leave the asphalt and glass behind.
Leave the streetlights and sirens,
the busy bodies yelping
in the artificial light,
leave behind the hustling life,
the gristmill of the civilization grind.

Pad quiet between the trunks,
shrink beneath the ancient trees,
lope into the gloaming dark,
unhuman yourself with me,

let me teach you the religion
my body taught itself:

I am not a creature of reason.
I am not comfortable in my skin.

I am nature dreaming of itself,
an animal prayer, a hungry spirit:
I am a mouthful of howling,
I am teeth and I am blood,
I eat the earth until the earth eats me,

I know this is a ragged ritual,
this prayer to animaling,

this is not the first time
I have tried to explain
this shaggy holiness.

Go back if you want
but leave my wolf body
here on the dirt,

ring me with wildflowers
and river pebbles,
let the ants have me,

until my pelt is eaten up
and my bones bleach white in the air.

Enshrine me to my wild worship.

— Adam Kamerer


Behind The Scenes

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-- Adam Kamerer

Galaxy

You order fancy sprinkles
off the Internet. Twenty bucks
for a small jar of bright glitter

and when they come in,
you sail away into the kitchen,
gathering cosmic dusts:

sifted flour, cocoa solids,
granulated sugar, a scatter of salt,
and other celestial bodies:

yellow yolks like suns,
a milky way of cream and vanilla,
soft butter, drops of color.

You poured this batter of starstuff
into a pan black as space
then the long heat, the longer cooling,

until you finished with
a glossy blue-black glaze
and your jar of sprinkles

and finally, you cut a wedge
to reveal brilliant colors:
the swirling nebula within,

handed me a fork
and asked me what I thought:
this cake is so much like you,

until the first sweet bite,
I never knew I could taste stars.

— Adam Kamerer


Behind The Scenes

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-- Adam Kamerer

Downpour

You are downpour,
a shock cold to bone
and breathlessness,
a wet kind of lightning.

In you, I shiver off
the muck of years.
You wash me out
from soul to skin.

One request:
Crack the sky forever
and never stop
your pour down on me.

— Adam Kamerer


Behind The Scenes

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-- Adam Kamerer

Peaches and Blood

For breakfast, while you slept,
I ate peaches with my fingers,
perched in my underwear
in the rocking chair on the porch.

I fished the syrupy slippery wedges
one by one straight out
from the can with my fingers,

popped them into my mouth
to dribble wet down my face,
until the inevitable moment
I sliced myself on the edge,

wet fingerprint split open
welling bright and red.
What would you say

if you stirred and saw me like this:
sticky-chinned gargoyle,
stony in the sunlight,
dripping blood into the juice,

even wounded still reaching
for another sweet fruit.

— Adam Kamerer


Behind The Scenes

Want to know the story behind this poem? Patrons who pledge $5/month or more get access to behind-the-scenes notes on my poems.

-- Adam Kamerer

#PoetParty – May 22nd, 2021

#PoetParty is a weekly Twitter chat for poets that I run every Saturday at 7pm EST. For more info, click here.

Topic: Sharing poetry with others







-- Adam Kamerer

Creek

You wade barefoot into the creek,
your dress damp to your knees
and you turn back to see
if I would follow you.

How do I tell you
about the ghosts I see
nipping at your toes,
minnows in the water,

about the little mouths of shadows
that sail lazy among the leaves
on the surface of the stream?

The sunlight filters down
to glisten on the eddies and on you
and you splash laughter dancing,

but how do I tell you
as sweet as wading in the river
of your happiness sounds,

I can join you with my body
but not with my soul.

I am shorebound today,
unbaptised and heavied,
there are rocks in my pockets
that your laughter cannot lighten,
I cannot go into the water with you

but please keep laughing,
and splash your joy upon my face,
pour cupfuls of it over my head,
you chase the ghosts with brightness
back into their shallows,
you make the shadows shut their mouths.

— Adam Kamerer


Listen:


Behind The Scenes

Want to know the story behind this poem? Patrons who pledge $5/month or more get access to behind-the-scenes notes on my poems.

-- Adam Kamerer

#PoetParty – May 15th, 2021

#PoetParty is a weekly Twitter chat for poets that I run every Saturday at 7pm EST. For more info, click here.

Topic: Challenges facing today’s poets.







-- Adam Kamerer

Prophet Moth

I flutter these days
against the light of you,
saucer-eyed prophet moth,
drunk on your heat,
delirious on your illumination,
I rattle and tink
against the bulb of you,
trying to drink fire
and eat divination
through glass.

— Adam Kamerer


Behind The Scenes

Want to know the story behind this poem? Patrons who pledge $5/month or more get access to behind-the-scenes notes on my poems.

-- Adam Kamerer