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and to think i saw it on floyd terrace

Tim Martin's Sonnet Project

Friday, January 18, 2008

Sonnet For My Jaw

1986, i am a pointless secret agent
silently that kidnaps off sands
what riot of only brown power
too close to draw from memory
i don’t like the way this sounds
that pirates could have blamed
for texting a function of twenties
it’s true, they congregate guiltlessly
and sure to bring a wingman
this is an accused vocabuary
that did this to me in atari
in a lifetime that yearns to faint
at any one word that comes
to us in the guise as days of service

Sunday, January 06, 2008

Broke Even

in this video my class of men
not yet sepia before new decades
what is the last car of our
bachelordom on bamboo screens
all the way half on electricity
holiday recasts his autobiography
this is the sad part of hope city
ten chips down slaps the wheel
it sounds so much more polite
to put lady in front of your terms
womanly at the bottom on the ocean
true believers end their discussions
that outcome is empty gold bird
that twists blades of light on our backs