Two Poems

By: Adam Day



Muted Janpe

Boats step through ice, geese
barking and dark water

under a shelf of snow.
Saturn’s rings become

the cast-iron balcony
of a house seen

from everywhere.
Nice how night

shrinks life.




The aspen is not
a tree. Cliff martin

has the moon
in its throat. Flood

rain banked
in the channel ditch;

red spores of mud water.
Plumes of exhaust

torn away
in brake light..



Adam Day is the author of the collection of poetry, Model of a City in Civil War (Sarabande), and the recipient of a PSA Chapbook Fellowship for Badger, Apocrypha, and of a PEN Emerging Writers Award. His work has appeared in APR, Denver Quarterly, Boston Review, Kenyon Review, Lana Turner, Iowa Review, and elsewhere. He directs The Baltic Writing Residency in Sweden, Scotland, Blackacre Nature Preserve, as well as the Stormé DeLarverie residency for underrepresented writers He also edits the forthcoming literary and culture magazine, Action, Spectacle.