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Joseph Martinez
Poems
Jan 2011
The Red Room
Inside, the lights are growing
chairs burn like candles
slowly & with purpose
we sit stationary - unmotivated by flame
the fabric bursts & smolders
as we ourselves erupt, we recall a favorite passage
something like: "and with you, it is a pleasure to burn"
& locked in eyes, slowly lost to ash
as we are pleasantly obliterated
Written by
Joseph Martinez
Detroit
(Detroit)
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Pen Lux
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Patti Masterman-Heterodynemind
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