Author Archives: Martin

About Martin

I'm just... filling time.

Alt-Administration

President Clinton has appointed her daughter Chelsea, to an unnamed role, but with security clearance and an office in the White House. Chelsea will be joining her husband there, who is one of Clinton’s top advisors. Earlier in the year, … Continue reading

Posted in Clinton, Politics, Russia, Trump, Uncategorized, United States, USA | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment

The Gull

It rises above the dunes shadow, gull rising, October sun, the early fading. Rhythmic bleating, endless and ungrowing, oblivious to  pendantic dancing, word to word, glance to glance, measured conversations. This middle movement, these greying eyes, faded glances, the fading … Continue reading

Posted in Creative Writing, Loss, Love, poetry, Uncategorized | Leave a comment

Quick Sand

Wallace Stevens quickened at 46. I may yet make order on some beach or another.

Posted in Poem, poetry, Uncategorized | Leave a comment

spring flingin’

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

Posted in Creative Writing, Poem, poetry, Uncategorized, Writing | 7 Comments

(sin voz)

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

Posted in Aging, On Writing, Poem, poetry, Writing | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

(zero attribute)

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

Posted in Creative Writing, Poem, poetry, Uncategorized | 4 Comments

Heart in England

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

Posted in Creative Writing, England, poetry | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment