The Works Of Daniel Ames

Daniel Ames is a poet living and working in Detroit, Michigan. He has had poems recently published in Magnolia: A Florida Journal of Literary and Fine Arts, The Centrifugal Eye, Nefarious Ballerina, Flutter Poetry Journal, Opium Poetry, Bijou Poetry Review and The Inquisition.  More poems are slated for 2009 publication in Edison Literary Review, Thieves Jargon, Iodine Poetry Journal, Pulsar Poetry UK and Thick with Conviction. To view links to some of his published poetry, visit his website:  poetdanielames.com


All Poems © Daniel Ames

Bombs

they are stashed everywhere
placed with no master plan
quite haphazardly

no collective time frame
for final resolution

I can hear them like
a schizophrenic orchestra
at night when I can’t sleep

tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick
tick…tick…tick…tick…tick…tick…tick
tick………tick………tick………tick……….

perhaps one is in a cupboard
another beneath the foundation

probably one is concealed behind a half-truth
another slipped between the veils of exaggeration

the only consolation may be that while
this field of imminent destruction is a composite of our lives

there is a certain security in knowing that each
little surprise package found its quiet private home

via our own pale, gentle hands



Where The Train Runs Out of Track

beyond the Elysian fields in a swath of scrub oak and gravel
in the distance, a small farmhouse without windows or a door
a hawk flies overhead, with a red tail and a eye for what’s beyond
this is where you and I now stand

the railroad ties are soaked in creosote black and fissured
the ghosts of tall weeds are carried along by the wind
the silence presses on our temples, the heat smothers our skin
you and I and the glassy scent of gasoline

there may have been plans to keep laying track
we can almost make out the linear banks of earth ahead
a heat wave shimmers beyond the broken landscape
where you and I try to see

you turn and look back I was waiting for you to do it
I would have been disappointed if you hadn’t
because then the years along the way would have tendrils
viscous remnants of you and I

you turn back to the front and as your gaze passes me
I wonder if you look at me or if you continue to swivel
without interruption or contemplation toward the precipice ahead
neither you nor I comprehend

at long last the faint smile comes and I am thrilled and reassured
I take your hand and your calm acceptance like a thousand times before
the hawk is gone and a young child comes out of the farmhouse
she hears the train that is you and I