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and to think i saw it on floyd terrace

Tim Martin's Sonnet Project

Monday, October 22, 2012

Penny Drops


Penny Drops

peace comes with gravity
I mean, there is no true shoe
to carve our feet into
but that adage of the tinker
exhausted, hour-slave at the wake
to become  amazed by ocean views
these days are a sea change
of deaths come in threes,  a sleep no
more when nights on the porch provoke
enough of the kool aid we forgot to sip
sober millennial houseworkers unite in song
torn carpets,  unkept gardens are union brands
we know as we know movie quotes
oh, those with nothing to lose


Sunday, April 15, 2012

Forgeries of Jealousy


Dear Joan-whoever-you-are-now,
are phoenixes just boojums of reincarnation?
they have taken the seats out of the theater
& my pulse is adjusting to middle aged rythmns
i wish there was more time for mothering
since they took photos of drag queens on Thursday
it was dance that replaced irony
there are a thousand words for sarcasm
just like eskimos and snow, here
in my fantasy we become hydras
my many tongues crave detail
& wine and coca cola, you call it bamboo
even in texas, there is strategy
where people’s eyes are dedicated to the fire

Monday, January 30, 2012

It’s Come to This



instead of combing a paper full of news
we only truly enjoy predictions
when the lights need to stay on
& there is time to practice excuses
there is a science dedicated to disappearing
amidst flamenco dancers and their guitarists
so i keep a passport in my nightstand
ready in case of the untelevised riot
we cringe at the silent spring
ignoring the notion under cover of social niceties
where i am an elvis with rattling chest
who does not despise the gambler
even though it is his faults
that remind me how i must survive

Monday, November 28, 2011

Your Ride is Here


here is a list of facts i have told
you & was completely wrong
the sky is made of empty gestures
that dance with a kind of duende
and make the shadow of joy on the ground
we meet in places we cannot be found
with public service messages pinned to my sleeve
they appropriate the names of bands that
play the tourist in a garden of french accents
in my five year plans there are no years after
my confidence calls for a vote
and  is a decisive voice that repeats in my ear
it is philadelphia in the autumn
and the sky is made of falling objects

Saturday, November 12, 2011

War Cry


babe, you have to let the pizza cool
when naming names just to be bellicose
despite the brides of dispossessed peddlers
who trades their trades in rough instances
in vain hope to invent the circuitry of the stars
that is present in circles somewhere in roshambo
you follow the guitar and expect rock
and the ticket is yours so there are no choices
any fool knows this human experience
but i am hostage to circus bears in vienna
and know nothing of the language here
dear marionettes, we cannot articulate
our needs properly sorted from our wants
we just wait until we think we beat the system

Monday, October 03, 2011

Build

For CG

infatuation moves like a dead girl
looking for a mnemonic device
for ethanol taxes us all in school
as we alter addresses to find
apparently, it’s a thing
band names in the sound qualities
there are waves in Egypt
kept in ceremonies of construction
passed by an ecology of books
in a string of characters like the genome
where gods are more jealous than we are
to make judgments along a  practical axis
here my catharsis is a blackbird by a spring
by resistance, i am becoming

Saturday, August 27, 2011

Apes of Apology


one third of this life is at war
on the side of  investments and inventions
based on loud mouthed south philly men
scared sons, the kind of who prove far easier
to pass through the eye of a hurricane
than through the pages of a bible
but please make sure not to recycle it
ground quakes & do you know the language of heaven
it’s a thug life at risk under illiterate stars
we read the birds as they drop from europe
another whispered hallelujah chorus of poor kids
sing out like weeds in a hated garden plot
behind grey mansions like de maurier
i am in the ghost of your first wife