CAROLERS BY TIMOTHY MARTIN
From house to house they spread glorias and hosannas
and others of the dictionary’s hangers-on.
Inside, their targets are chattering at satellites
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From house to house they spread glorias and hosannas
and others of the dictionary’s hangers-on.
Inside, their targets are chattering at satellites
For two weeks since my watch departed
I have scrutinized the skin of my left wrist
to see if my life is progressing.
Good-bye, grandma of lipstick-colored bright shades of red-
and-green eyeliner from the cosmetics counter at Bloomingdale’s.
Explore 2
dissident chords of life,
silence of absent mother,
off-key instruments of nature
song of-the-tone-deaf-child,
unfinished trills of lost love,
explore war, a burden to be borne
November meant snow back then, filling winter’s cup from Thanksgiving on, spilling over one day into the next, and the next after that, till the first flakes of November lay buried under layers thick as the great heaps of wet winter clothing discarded by the kitchen door at the end of every winter day.
Read MoreThe home
& the temple
are quite modest
It’s been a while since I put pen to paper
unwrapped myself from the comfort
(ably numb) zone of 3 AM phone calls
with men I met in bathroom stalls
The lake still, most fishermen gone.
Small boats, one to each cabin sit dry-docked.
The water moccasin, so threatening
in summer, twines away
to brimming waters.
Quick, I threw away my dream
and filled my chest with air;
at once I felt much lighter,
free of the crown of despair.
How I got to this place
This point of confounding indifference
I know not.
I will sit by the fire and ponder
the thawing caterpillar, who,
in a few months’ time, will begin eating away
at the edges of the night
