Tim Martin
Steven Dalachinsky
Tim Martin
Perhaps These Notions
the sky is falling
well, maybe not
but everything looks
underwater
and these are my
good shoes
i need time
to think
the phone keeps
ringing & i know
it's about bills
or some big mistake
on the government forms
how many
ways can you define
need
anyway?
so, i'm in the dictionary
scrawling margins with questions
they say there
is a time
in everyone
's life
when the question starts
being as important
as the answer
it seems false
that prayer
should have gone
this far
unanswered
i'm terrified
of predictions
and riddles
that end
with my
leaving
unsolved
perhaps, these notions
are unjustified
but
they make the skin
jitter
in time
with the lightening
and
my blood
is full
of house sparrows
all darting
on cue
in the same
direction
Copyright © 2004 Tim Martin
Return to Top
How Public Like A Frog
it comes down to this
i make lists to convince myself
it's time to buy land
i am not a first day fraud
i don't need a morning smoke
debt was worth it
in my renegotiated role of education
i should relocate
since saints often get cancer
and need to be fed ice chips
in this Andrew Wyeth field
i stare at silhouettes of crows
homesick with these muted colors
across acres of farmland
Copyright © 2004 Tim Martin
Return to Top
Candy from Strangers
too early
for murder
when the van
picks you up
the very air
accumulates
morning energy
in the alarm
clock ring
free from
the moorings
the villainy
the village
the weird night
time occurrences
back to the script
polka-dotted
with Maxwell
House stains
& breakfast meat
grease
these things
don't sit well
with me at thirty
like tequila
and garden pizza
have ecstatic
effects i hear
as the happy
man dances
with his hammock
before the rooftops
at the party
he throws
for the voice
of the people
Copyright © 2004 Tim Martin
Return to Top
Bio: Tim Martin is a writer from Bryn Mawr, PA. His plays Once Upon A River, and Tales From Turtle Island have been produced by the Hedgerow Theatre and One's Self I Sing was recently given a reading. His poetry has been seen in In Words, Autumn Leaves, Orange/Blowmoney 2 and other small magazines. He is the founder of King of Mice Press and a member of the Curio Theatre Company and the Big Mind Collective.
Steven Dalachinsky
cecil taylor trio @ castle clinton - 7/29/04 ( for (e) shadow )
tell this dy /// nam is mos
useless blues & pinks
in mentus
this is daylight when we most need it when
there is no day left
this is river in a shadow
shadow against an even/ing when
tree become sky
no mental can the shadows stay this silent for so>long
the bricks that never saw the war they fought for
it is a yellow in the eye
useless magenta that crosses our lives
the sun is behind me the sun
it heats my neck
dy na mis mos contrarios
one immigrant says to another
i passed thru here (too)
vialavitsef feast & live
tale tail's tale to taste
aventus creatus rowldtercompat
the act of natural act of..................
i've come thru here too
the shadows never move
the trees & sky are one
glass & stone & steel a blding make
fingers make things happen
one immigrant says to another
glass stone & steel
are the building blocks of this world
trader trapped inside the gullum
is a wink the paper asleep
i crumble
in uniform your day begins
like this: shadows never move
sun behind your back
useless magenta
bricks that tell a tale
fingers make things happen
running spotlights cannot function before the nite arrives
it is really not the clock that determines transition
that crosses our lives
one immigrant says to another
it is when the sun crosses our backs like a river
a festival a world -
sonic tellin panic
when the light that was created
becomes the light that was invented
a bet earned a wise trade a gorge traversed
2( money is the (M) angle
we will not be fed by sunlight a loan
even now as evening turns snurt the concessions
no time for this/that it's obligat(o)ion 0bliGate
it's now dark it feels
one immigrant says to another
feel my neck it passed this way
this is no joke
privitize my sacrament it's cool now hands on it's cool now
the useless magenta adds to the piano's song
this world was built by hands
tree & sky no longer touch
the shadows have become a river
that does not flow
brick is what i call your face
i remain attached to my allegiance
tea is a drink for two (3)
this shifting desire is a wedge
between the clock & the hrs
clamusin tourista raditsula bo ard
such useless appendages these hands against the unmanacled day.
Copyright © 2004 Steven Dalachinsky
Return to Top
possessed
i am possessed
i definitely know now that i am possessed
by my/
self
we all have to pay eventually
for being on the guest-list
if i weren't here i'd have the tor-
ment of being some/where
else
even the dessert isn't any good
the water is about the only thing worth
tasting
i know now that i am possessed
posed
poised
posssed
perferated
a stones' throw away from a stone ('s)
throw
they took it down they
blew it up they took it down they blew it
up
Copyright © 2004 Steven Dalachinsky
Return to Top
Bio: my name is steven dalachinsky i am a poet among other things who has lived in ny my entire life i have been battling mental illness for lack of a better term most of my life tho most find this hard to believe. i was hospitalized when young and put thru the ringer in many ways
| 
