Deep Cold, a poem by Adam Common, poet

 Deep is
The light of
The Autumn
 Sun that
Spills between
Our two
 Lungs.

 Static
The time as
You shift, breathe,
 Allow
The stuff of
Warm dreams
 Out.

 Cold as
The white night,
Snow capped and
 Bleak as
The roofs that
Line our
 Street.

 Thin now,
The veil of
My dark and
 Deep eve.
Static so
Not to
 Wake

 You so
Soft beneath
The cold of
 Sheets and
Me so warm
Outside
 Them.

Bug in the Garage, a poem by Adam Common

It is such 

a thing to be the thriving

bug in the garage once 

autumn has come.

They hear me 

chirp 

and chirrup, 

but I cannot be found.

I cry 

out in the night, 

in the dark, come for me,

touch me. 

Hold me so that my voice might turn 

quiet,

that I go the way of my kind, 

out there,

in the world of rain & wind,

so that heaviness 

might 

take me away from 

this hole in the ground

And bring me to something 

better.

Small Bird

The sky is blue at last,
And drift, small bird, in the outside
Where all at once, wonder,
And want to wander
Would cross that blossom face.

A quiet despair that,
Oh, since my half is spent,
But spent without you,
Knowing you'd never have been
If that time hadn't been wasted
Now wishing I'd known you'd be.

And the sky is blue at last,
So drift, small bird, in the outside
Where we might hope to fly.