Author Archives: Martin
Wallace Stevens quickened at 46. I may yet make order on some beach or another.
This is just to say that I am in the back yard there’s a red breasted robin feeding 5 feet away, a woodpecker upside down at the same feeder and a burning red cardinal sitting not far above. Their songs … Continue reading
Esta no es mi nativa ni incluso adquirida, sin embargo, la herramienta que me está engañando en éxtasis y verborrea pero mi cara no se traduce, más como el famoso salamandra de Paz quemaduras y vueltas y emerge cicatrizado cada … Continue reading
i keep thinking that there’s this room i’m supposed to be in and it’s all white and glowing a little, and my gown is matching and my knees are up to my chest my head is shaven and my feet … Continue reading
I had a heart when I was in England Heart in England, morning runs through cemeteries racing with Mary’s ghost, merging with the mist amongst the cenotaphs, vaporous fingers tracing ancient names on leaning tombstones, and tracing sweat along my … Continue reading
there is an ocean within you. dark waters, dark eyes, mischievous, wise, fathomless they left me, used and wanted, unwanted, a bottle tossed to sea… a message writ in spit, in sweat, of groans and exultations. now tossed like flotsam, … Continue reading