So do we Adam, so do we...
In other news there is still a reading down here in Hyde Park tomorrow featuring, Charles Blackstone and Cheryl Pallant. Also, Danny's is back this week on Wednesday with a bunch more of the Chicago crowd, Gabriel Gudding, Simone Muench, and Ray Bianchi.
Anyway, back to Adam Clay. I love this guy. His poems remind me of sunrise: always beautiful, best when they're quiet, and surprisingly surprising.
In the poetry spectrum Clay lies somewhere between Wordsworth (imagery, language, purpose?) and some of your more current situational/art poets. I made up the situational/art thing, so don't looking up exactly what that means, rather, just think about it a tad and you'll get what I mean.
The guys got poetry everywhere and a quick search of his name will bring up most of it. In print form he's got a full-length (from Parlor Press) and a chap (from horseless press). With Matt Henriksen he edits the great TYPO online journal, which very kindly rejected me.
I first came across him a few years ago over at the Wave Books site which was (for two issues) publishing an online journal called "The Bedazzler" and my favorite poem of his is still there, that is until right now...when it's also here:
A refusal of night refuses everything once thought
to be revolutionary. True, I can say
the first night of love was all blankets and revolution,
but it had little
to do with the sun
and more to do with coincidental destruction.
I am Rip Van Winkle
without the beard. I am reaching
in the sky
in my sleep every night.
This is the saddest thing I have ever told anyone,
skylines across my vision and the alphabet
The more words I read, the closer each
Atlantic wave comes to take my sickness away.