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Adam Cole

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Ten Canons
by Adam Cole

Friday, June 29, 2001

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Recent poems by Adam Cole
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Ten poems in a new poetic form

Canon 1

The woods are beautiful
The verdant
wood's shades
are dazzling,
beautiful to my eyes
I feel the verdant
woods within me,
its ephemeral shades
are dazzling;
subtle, yet beautiful to my eyes
weakening wonder
As I traverse a misbegotten leaf
I feel the verdant woods within me;
its ageless and ephemeral
shades are dazzling, remaining earthbound
subtle, yet beautiful to my eyes weakening wonder;
I sense that I soar!

Canon 2

I need your love
Isn't it obvious
I need your love
from my hungering spirit?
Life isn't
always what
so obvious
I need your love,
inaccessible from my hungering spirit.
life to me -- what
always fair releases my sorrow.
It longs for what
so obvious
I need your love -- such
inaccessible passions eternally retreat
from my hungering spirit.

Canon 3

Keys give
keys give
the fluctu-
ating hem-
mer takes
its cue from
the keys
fingers give
meaning --
melodies deco-
ded I sit,
surrouded by
my own joy
as the fluctua-
ting hammer
takes its cue
from the assorted
keys. Notes give
vibrations of vary-
ing color. Mel-
odies emerge, re-
valations of joy, the
finger's meaning decod-

Canon 4

the past is the passed
we find
the past,
our emotional attic,
is housed
the memories passed themselves.
In recalling,
we find
the stores of our past congested;
our emotional attic is
crammed, desires and dead dreams we put away
for a rainy day
housed above
the innocuous memories;
recollections passed which
in ascension are no comfort

Canon 5

In the act of
recalling our lives
we find the
"is" that 'was' within
the stores of our past; congested
drama we imagine
our world to be, our
emotional attic is crammed full of the thoughts that we
wrought; we drown for an evening in
desires and dead dreams. "What became of
those things that we put away for
a rainy day?" No longer are
housed what we fancied so carefully putting away;
the innocuous memories, the "was" that we figured to comfort
ourselves, did nothing but bear
recollections, rotted fruits
from diseased branches of thought which
in ascension are no comfort,

Canon 6

before love
is love
what comes before love
a result of nothing. Is
love more than that?
One can only take
what comes.
Desire before love, this
is a human flaw, and its
result, plowshares
of nothing.
Need and
want con-
fine our-
souls in
a way that
is almost too
We surrender to
in the same heartbeat, little knowing the difference.
We perhaps discover
more than that
our cage
Deeper than one soul's want
is love.
This can only
give within the universe.
"Take" is a conception where
what comes,
higher than
will be misunderstood for event's release.
that soothing flow we fancy we
need is a human flaw we cultivate and its
result will always be
of nothing.
Part of us, though we dread it,
"need" and
"want" con-
fine our
souls. In a way it shows us to be that beastly and helpless
soul without substance.

Is this too
Even dispicable?
Creature of
"we" that
surrender to
love, ignorant
in the same heartbeat.
Want is a little knowing creature barely
aware of the difference, the dis-
tinction between
and I.
Deserving perhaps to discover
more than love,

love before love,
love after love,
enough of an excuse to inhabit that
our cage,
cendental want.

Canon 7

beat kick
smoky dance club feel the beat pulse kick
alone in a smoky dance club I feel the push heartbeats to the
sides In front remains the beat without a heart, my
dopple - kick
- the drummer
I am truly alone in a smoky dance club indifferent to the crowd,
I feel the unanswering push, mob of the muse , throwing
its heartbeats to the sides, the wake of my consciousness. In par
adoxical loneliness remains this chilling front, but I have no al
ternative. I am sustained by the lifeless beat Without a drone
unfeeling I sway towards my dopple that vampire whose kick
summons the crowd the drummer plays on.

Canon 8

In God we trust

Trust in God. We trust God

Do you trust it God? We trust God.

Do what you will. Trust in God. We trust God.

Canon 9

acting inactive
acting, you remain
In acting, resisting rest,
you remain.
Activity defines itself
Wherin the
acting soul remains,
resisting rest,
there shall you,
the ever weary, remain. Practice the eternal
activity, relentless restlessness, which
defines itself, even
endlessly drives itself towards
inactive infinity.

Canon 10

I am plagued perpetually
with memories false and fierce
Each night
I am plauged
dreams pound my conscience
with memories false and fierce
Each frightful night
I am plagued
I cannot escape into dreams
that perpectually pound my conscience with


memories false and fierce
Each frightful night I am fast
I cannot escape into dreams
that perpetually pound
my conscience
awake with
false and fierce...

the great
betrayer, begone!
who thou art, the great
betrayer, mine evil inside, begone!
show me who thou art: the great betrayer, he who
retains mine evil: Inside that self deception is myself.
illumination does show me little good. Who but myself thou art:
the great betrayer,
seen clearly in the mirror,
he who retains my evil inside. That
self deception is the worst of my
crimes against mine eyes, myself. The truth
cannot begone, lie

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