Kirsten Martin: Favorites

Oct 2010 Kirsten Martin

Celestial

Oct 2010 Kirsten Martin

Sansara Justinovich

These words aren’t anything
But blood, sweat, tears
Are closer to the facts
Each passing face and fading day
Bear down upon my soul
Sneering, reaffirming my mistakes
I laugh along, unwittingly
As laughter seeps from pores
And tear glands, and veins
Each fleeting moment
And memory
Bearing down upon my soul
As I smile
Because words don’t mean anything
And our bodies aren’t silent
With craters and harmony
We are celestial

MMIX

Oct 2010 Kirsten Martin

Utterence

Oct 2010 Kirsten Martin

Sansara Justinovich

Utterence

Weeding out the critics and choosing only yes men

Using up the meantime, awaiting expiration

A coffee table, with no legs

Rotting fruit and cigarettes

Large window, yellow Curtain

Filling in a blue lounge chair with subtle desperation

It won’t work, it’s over

I’ve uttered it before

This final time it’s sincere

I will have no more

A vase, a plant, a canvas

A wall, a couch an attic

A suit made out of plaid

Brown shoes, mustache

White shirt, grey hat

Suitcase

MMVIII

Oct 2010 Kirsten Martin

We're Al(l-)Right

Oct 2010 Kirsten Martin

Sansara Justinovich

We're Al(l-)Right

There is nothing here
Not the façade of a façade
Can’t you see our idea fading?
We thought we were Hobbes’ Leviathan
The modern alchemists of state
We’re nothing more than rodents!
Scurrilous, maladapted membranes
Spewing from democracy forth
Ought they to encapsulate us?
They must needs encapsulate the naïve!
Whiling away at the trough as though livestock
I’m to be ground on the wheel regardless;
Nay, stretched on the rack of modernity!
By the comforts of progress and superficiality
Sought after as if vital
By the people, “We the people!”
Rallying cry for throngs, imprisoning themselves
With society, a subtle hocus pocus
The trite, aged argument
Of those who’d force you build your very tenement
Paying rent to breathe,
Countless yet believe
Tripartite consumer, greed and slavery
Surrounding you and me
Separating ignorance from squalor
In a ghetto of the mind
You're right, we're alright

Oct 2010 Kirsten Martin

good morning, it's nice to see you...

Oct 2010 Kirsten Martin

D Conors

good morning, it's nice to see you...

...sitting here
across from me again
(in my mind's wishful eye),
sipping coffee together,
light talk, some danish,
and an omelette, too
(i made it the way you like it,
just for you),
happy to be here
as the flaming
sunstreak rise lights up
the tender tips of the flowers
outside the window,
i fingertip-kiss your lips,
as the morning bird
breaks into song,
waking up the world,
whilst you and i
carry on
and your eyes
reflect the new day's skies,
it's nice, it's nice
to see you...

D. Conors
07 September 2010

Oct 2010 Kirsten Martin

ultramarine

Oct 2010 Kirsten Martin

andrea bush

ultramarine

she wanted it to be the way she felt when painting
fearless messy vivid
instead of this faded photograph of a staged existence
and click click click she winds the film
dreaming cadmium red and deep cerulean
and the tightening of drying oils on her
fingertips arm lip pulling and biting at flesh like an old lover
wet sable slides across canvas
sweet turpentine and resin saturating the room
like the smell of sweat and *** lingering over some half forgotten affair
and back to the taut fabric again
in flashes of titanium white
the intensity of vermilion
slipping with animal instinct into rich umber and raw sienna
and a final stroke of ultramarine
click

Oct 2010 Kirsten Martin

(and)

Oct 2010 Kirsten Martin

andrea bush

(and)

she said: the light across your face just now is thirty thousand years old
(and something about the way she shifted seemed like she wanted to reach out
and brush away the sun from your cheek)

she said: drink deep from that ancient fire
for what we don't understand we can make mean anything
(and something about the way she said it seemed like you should have understood)

she (never) said: i am winding myself around myself and
drinking in the icy ink of this black night and
scratching and clawing and tossing and turning
(and trying to lose for you what you never had for me)

Oct 2010 Kirsten Martin

metronome

Oct 2010 Kirsten Martin

frances lee

metronome

in the night the clock in the kitchen is deafening
it is the sound of time marching on,
of morning turning to night,
and the inexorable motion of the earth
as it spins it's way through the universe
one small measurement of moment at a time.
it is the metronome to my dance of days.

my weary eyes pass over my glowing screen a last time
before i trade in my loneliness for sleep
and my gaze moves to the empty spot
beside me on the couch.
my hand grazes the cushion
where you should be
as i whisper to you
in the silence
even though you are miles away.

i miss you.

Oct 2010 Kirsten Martin

Spring

Oct 2010 Kirsten Martin

danie

Spring

I pick flowers when we walk
Up the street useless talk
When did it get so ******* dark?