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and to think i saw it on floyd terrace

Tim Martin's Sonnet Project

Wednesday, September 28, 2005

It Could be Raining

compose this to circadian timing
one flat tire after another
it is midweek & overbodied
over what would be a throne
crossing bones of fingers
three great windows full
a cure in southern exposures
noise that neighbors gossip
outnumbers us like rabbits
pancaked by german inquisitions
ignorance is not the solution
and becomes the war of faithful
at night when we unearth
bodies of unstoppable work

Monday, September 26, 2005

Public Knowledge

it’s off to the moon
this race hasn’t been good
to me in my palimpsests
early sunday suburban showers
terrace clean with autumn
i could be a dog owner
sinking in the lakes
somewhere in my broken house
a consequence of swallowed holes
post-nasal drip of my consideration
too long at the library
hands search for the ticket
and the movie is almost over
i play the credits myself

Saturday, September 24, 2005

The Fattest Shoe

singularly written Philadelphia
by tests tics away memory
of architecture & river
we metabolize by dawn
this charnal legacy
our hopes of ash & tar
itemized by beer math
colors these doorways
as far as we can reduce
our inclinations to learn
left for the eyes
of secular hustlers
not hungry in trouble
enjoying the sound of it

Monday, September 19, 2005

Dogs the Necessity

nobody screws with my ladies
on brown bottled fishtown nights
that makes real track marks on
cross streets of shoeless johns
it could only be the quarter
musical point of pauses
freaky stuff that nods in traffic
my lost boys social occasion
i mean this now this time
talk or the need and find
it’s audience on the counter
tears me up for the friend
& barks at all the kittens
we are more than one tree

Monday, September 12, 2005

Coroner’s Trumpet

alone in my teeth
jurisdiction of moonlighters
scrawls new candy graffiti
causes fraud of projects
that play behind the band
addicted to full voice
i sweep the hearth
with appropriated heirlooms
in the city of faster waters
i could carry an umbrella
front the funeral procession
to tunes of bent instruments
in a conflict of interests
there is a flash of continuity

Thursday, September 08, 2005

Its Own Reasons

if they can't take a joke
not a thing is done
for leaving you
with mediterranean arrangements
paled by expectations
in the shadow of capital
this theatre of rough trade
runs like the mousetrap
fooled in this sandstone city
everything turns out gray
pavement, hospitals, the sky
just another calamity
asserting its own reasons

Saturday, September 03, 2005

Small Pond

did you figure you’d end
with this mega-fauna lecture
or prayers of thanksgiving
clovis points that live in a haircut
indepently originate my religion
lost to chortling creepiness
turn tricks like dancing bears
it’s how you dress them
i know this fish story
the reason of rivers should meander
interview away special topics
by backhands and departure tables
if your worst comment stays
unsinking, water blurs it all