.comment-link {margin-left:.6em;}

and to think i saw it on floyd terrace

Tim Martin's Sonnet Project

Tuesday, April 18, 2006

For Andy and Liz Without Water

what plan this congregation?
vapor like all the housetales
in an old knife rule
evokes states of naturalization
it is close to midnight
to neighbor the streetlife
paid in respitory distresses
travel only in hostels
we are parisian agents
grown of an antebellum age
tobacco twists at pedestals
constructions under wine bottles
from the man with desert parititons
broken treasury of our occupations

Monday, April 17, 2006


here again in collections
unseen and permissionless
how often names repeat
& casts a screwball comedy
loathsome to other visitations
message this a secret lover
that weaves in text
like memorial fences
shakes this strange rain
that we yearly fly into
faith or its opposite voice
and that’s not even our decision
old we begin to favor chairs
it’s light at good times of day

Thursday, April 13, 2006

If They Can't Take a Joke

just because i fix a car
in these mechanics of man
honors us with struck flesh
who our teachers have been
solved in talking bubbles
we are the comic stips
pained by digital age
which never works out
sends the longest message
all the bling upon
my fabulous situation
this is not some holiday
when jesus appears
and sees his shadow

Thursday, April 06, 2006

The Course of Human Events

this dailiness i hear invention
safe from backcountry weather
gone native in the foothill subplot
i could never stand to listen
if this were paris or eureka
there’d be a gold standard
bearded and grim standing
of eye-silent extractions
all anyone asks is freely said
shopped out in middle america
we are spider stories
events for this impossible tourist
that are really a manifest

twenty years to get passed

Tuesday, April 04, 2006

This is What you Want

born to entertain this ignorance
i wrap close every alibi
like folds of your mistress
deep in confessional sweetness
i could part without lesson
distract solitary pains of your skull
with one thousands laughs emergent
these are the sudden gods
i have struck my own spectral bargains
for illusions sake we cannot remember
and flames flicker overhead as
we harmonica this trainline
see drawn in unfinished cartoons
if jesus sees his shadow