Diana Adams


Persona poems: Are opportunity to exit the confines of your own brain and step into the workings of another. A chance to contemporize characters from the past. As with Frankenstein, something made, not expressed.




Frank, The Error Of Days


Names knot, unknot.
Someone will play the piano.
Someone will play pool.
Next door the butcher
hangs up a calf.
Eyes hate-sieve me,
liquefy me. Bar after bar,
stuck in the dark or wedged
corners, cloak-sunk.
Craters lurk as I pour through
November, December,
girls are doubles,
charnel in earthsmells.
Who will help me?
I don't want to be
a murderer. You should love me.
I don't want to be.



Frankenstein's Ice Mirror


The left orb protrudes
but the right's a diamond,
it captures riverwords,
dwells on velvet faces
on turned earth and chittering trees.
My hands, stitched, ill-fitted,
forget so many things.
Still, you should love me.
all the words I've learned,
Gull-gray, silent ice--
their echoes attach,
bind you to me.



435569-1583486-thumbnail.jpgDiana is an Alberta based writer with work published  in a variety of journals The Laurel Review, MiPOesias, Shampoo, Pindeldyboz, Poemeleon,  Del Sol Review, Perihelion, Bayou, Apostrophe, and Spire. She is a poetry editor for Del Sol Review, and her first book of poetry 'Cave Vitae' was published this spring by Plain View Press.