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and to think i saw it on floyd terrace

Tim Martin's Sonnet Project

Wednesday, January 21, 2009

Here We Go

like so often brothers of missed epistles
rumors of three visits always at night
those were wrecking crew ghosts
back from the days of foot tapping
give me those electricity blues
in the spirit of post-holiday connection
again time trails in happy color changes
this is the fun crowd in 1995
where john lee hooker for nobody
but the cat, the dog and the kitchen
business is a hearth word
when names are all that is left us
we count winter beside road maps
with flat tires we cross here before

Friday, January 09, 2009

This is my Typewriter, There Are Many Like it

repetition is good for the fluids
hazes come over and tell me is
to get through robot faux pas
down the jungle of likewise blenders
look at fragments in line for a denver train
after chemical option period resurrects
flannel habits that found new starters
acrons burnt in the laser light home
welcome bonfire night of my vows
take undisappeared youth in cities
who set fire to timbers of the ship
against the stronghold of my lucky number
in mystery rings through the house
without which i am nothing

Sunday, January 04, 2009

That Drink on Arch Street

like promises become recurring jokes
composed on line of sight values
so ambiguous that company
loves to commiserate
there was once such a beer
that folk songs were composed to
never mix histories, never worry
with a bros fixation on fire
the difference between empty and full
polices secret parking with zero tolerance
when independence came to a halt
cry, absolve your assassins
all that was left in tea cup
was how we decide this should end

Saturday, January 03, 2009

Fish Out of Water

ok, lancaster avenue, let’s do this
my eyes are time sensitive
wary of the age of communication
to arise in inappropriate spaces
that pay no attention to accuracy
here, my words should lie
out of bonds from chairman mao
on the road that monks fermented
schooldays spike memory of jackets
on the street and back in the hall
unraveled sense of appellation
like watching a game at home
in the middle like crepuscular predators
ready to repeat the name of the game