Description
Lights On The Way Out
by Diana Adams
$19.99, full-length, paper
Lights On The Way Out by Diana Adams
$19.99
The thing about Diana Adams is that each line is a poem in itself and when she places them as a whole, something like a combustion happens.
–Didi Menendez
POEM:
A Pack
Throw out all your sweaters
time is talking
as the smell of Galliano
drifts out of the cemetery
listen to the historic ticking
telling you to take in guests
so you won’t be alone
with the pack of cards
Aunt Dick gave you
decorated with wolves
collaborating over a rabbit
what does that mean
I don’t know but I know
there are potato chips in that scene
& you will feel blanketed
by the dog’s nails
clicking on hardwood
Diana S. Adams’, Lights On The Way Out invites the reader to flick the switch, turn off the power, stop the flow of energy and engage with the darkness that will glow in your absence. She writes, “I asked what he was doing / then realized he wasn’t here yet [.]” These poems glow in the absence of light. They are as artfully written as they are thought provoking. Her adventurous style is engaging in voice, elegant in form, and infused with an adroit surrealism, which give her writing wisdom and gravity. Her focused departures are shaped as elegant dreams, as passing moments that flicker, hum. “Invent a lake if you must / but it’ll be gone by tomorrow”
—Geoffrey Gatza
Didi Menendez –
The thing about Diana Adams is that each line is a poem in itself and when she places them as a whole, something like a combustion happens.
–Didi Menendez
Geoffrey Gatza –
Diana S. Adams’, Lights On The Way Out invites the reader to flick the switch, turn off the power, stop the flow of energy and engage with the darkness that will glow in your absence. She writes, “I asked what he was doing / then realized he wasn’t here yet [.]” These poems glow in the absence of light. They are as artfully written as they are thought provoking. Her adventurous style is engaging in voice, elegant in form, and infused with an adroit surrealism, which give her writing wisdom and gravity. Her focused departures are shaped as elegant dreams, as passing moments that flicker, hum. “Invent a lake if you must / but it’ll be gone by tomorrow”
— Geoffrey Gatza