Carrie Adams

Question 1

This nebula of petals,
this mint leaf tea planet,
this shimmer of libraries –
……..lock these scars
……..in the back of
……..an ambulance.

This arc from Antarctica
bloomed in crimson butter
flies the shape of Budapest –
……..and we are human
……..because we can see
……..art, ark and arcs.

Are we stardust or dead
skin cells? Believe in cardiac
arrests and police profiling –
……..the worst parts of
……..green and blue
……..exist in a vacuum.

– Aaron Kent

Answer 1

I like the tiny places.
Squeeze into, slough off
When you asked me to perch in the rain,
I thought robin, I thought cardinal,
I made wiry feet toward the puddle.

When I came back
and bent down toward the handprint
in the sidewalk, I saw how large
we had all become.

The concrete shimmers
with our past forgotten gum.
I don’t know how we make
these things up, ourselves over.

One day the train doors opened
and I made a little nook
between the strangers.

– Carrie Adams

Question 2

The tiniest places I know
exist in the borders of my flower bed,
my waste of time – shades – grows into weeds
in youtube weather documentaries.

There is still blu tac on the wall
where the last group hung
their educational psychology.
What would you stick there?

I cancelled hypnotherapy.
My wife was ill.
I panicked about false memories.
We had no car.
I ran to the shade.
I drew a picture of empty space.
I lived among the ants.

– Aaron Kent

Answer 2

Before the storm blew in
we were sticky in the door frames
trying to catch flight like spiders
on a gust of upward escape

What would you stick
like funnel clouds in the empty landscape
of my childhood
Some folks keep going back there

Convinced that the shade of memory
Can be removed one pinch of dirt at a time

– Carrie Adams

The poetic interview with Carrie Adams is in progress.