poem index

poet

Chris Martin

by this poet

poem
for Ben Estes
So taste
as day
rearranges the red
and orange flowers
from tongue to tongue
like losing the cymbal's 
clang for all its glints
we crept behind the moon
which always insists on sleeping over 
barely a belly for a mouth
an hour past the movie
we were still filming 
the
poem

All that happens happens

in the hollow

mouth

open mid-vow

knowing

only song will do

what an empty cave needs

done, drone

that seeds to fill

one space and then that

space’s space, what

are we made

poem
                    I was out interviewing clouds         amassing
                    the notes of a sky pornographer    while patches


                                             of the city subnormalized
by fear of fear            like a reef bleaching closed


                    I took to the streets