Hit the Lights

We are the atheists
who met to talk in church

Something we were has been
dead twenty-eight days now

No one knows
how big the universe is

It might be infinite
beneath the whirlpool of oral sex

Consider the distance imposed
walking backwards there

A screen door’s clanging
somewhere in this city

I walk each street
looking for its shadow

You’re better at killing
than thinking maybe

That’s a good thing
a common thing
 
 

Bring on the Headless Horses

I left my wife for Mary Oliver
I stared in the mirror
said her name three times

She appeared behind me
wrapped me in her wings
She took me away

On the wind, a torrent
among the gusty trees
in a Fleetwood Mac video

We rode a horse along
from then to now assumed
our true forms on the trail

Now a horse is not a horse
anymore a head is not a head
or my mouth full with love

For small faces I’ve known
when I’m high Mary, please
restore me please restore me
 
 
 
Adam Tedesco is a founding editor of REALITY BEACH, a journal of new poetics. He conducts interviews and analyzes dreams for Drunk in a Midnight Choir. His recent work has appeared or is forthcoming in Entropy, Weekly Gramma, Funhouse, Fanzine, Fence, Cosmonauts Avenue, Hobart, Powder Keg Magazine, and elsewhere. He is the author of several chapbooks, most recently HEART SUTRA and ABLAZA (Lithic Press).