Adam Church
Adam Church grew up in the suburbs of Northern Virginia. He is currently pursuing a bachelor’s
degree in English at Washington College in Chestertown, Maryland. Adam discovered his love
of poetry through the lyrics of American folk, alternative and punk music (artists like Bob Dylan,
The Flaming Lips and The Dead Kennedys). He fills his time listening to music, reading and
writing poetry and short fiction.
degree in English at Washington College in Chestertown, Maryland. Adam discovered his love
of poetry through the lyrics of American folk, alternative and punk music (artists like Bob Dylan,
The Flaming Lips and The Dead Kennedys). He fills his time listening to music, reading and
writing poetry and short fiction.
Heading to Downtown D.C. from Herndon
Median Strip trees
never die.
A secret between
you and I.
Thoughts that kept
us up every night.
Vague attempts
to be superhuman.
Vague attempts
to be a hero.
For a world not looking for one.
It comes to staring
blankly in a screen.
Melting our minds
(Telepathic Napalm).
Silently I become
empty, dull and dumb.
The strongest drug
in every living room.
My God.
My King.
(My TV.)
Outside of our comfort
(Is there an outside. . .?)
we build our towers
and smash them down.
(It’s not like on TV. . .)
In silent asphalt fields
with mammoths of
aluminum and polyurethane.
In monoxide-filled streets
median strip trees erect
from their concrete islands.
As reminders that some things
are immortal.
Median Strip trees
never die.
A secret between
you and I.
Thoughts that kept
us up every night.
Vague attempts
to be superhuman.
Vague attempts
to be a hero.
For a world not looking for one.
It comes to staring
blankly in a screen.
Melting our minds
(Telepathic Napalm).
Silently I become
empty, dull and dumb.
The strongest drug
in every living room.
My God.
My King.
(My TV.)
Outside of our comfort
(Is there an outside. . .?)
we build our towers
and smash them down.
(It’s not like on TV. . .)
In silent asphalt fields
with mammoths of
aluminum and polyurethane.
In monoxide-filled streets
median strip trees erect
from their concrete islands.
As reminders that some things
are immortal.
