The heat is becoming unbearable.
[average repair cost $488]
I'm manually cranking the window
[1998 Chevy S-10]
While Dad drives me to the store.

I'm craving Nutella
[Great Value Hazelnut Spread]
And pomegranates seeds.
[only one container without mold]
I hope Mom doesn't mind the price.

Turning 22 this year;
[also a model from 1998]
I hope to start on Testosterone
[again]
And maybe learn to drive

ऐ मालिक, सिर्फ इतना-सा मुझपर तू करम दे,
मुझे सनम से प्यारा मेरा वतन कर दे! !

कर दूँ निछावर तन-मन-धन सब अपना,
इतनी प्रज्वलित मुझमें राष्ट्रप्रेम की अगन कर दे! !

सकुचित न होऊँ क्षणभर भी सरफ़रोश बनने को,
ऐसी मनोवृत्ति का, मेरे ज़हन में जनम कर दे !!

अस्तित्व मिट जाए दहशतवादी नर-पिशाचों का इस धरा से,
और परे हो मुल्क से गद्दारीभरी सोच भी ऐसे उसे तू दफन कर दे! !

मेरी माँ के आँचल तले चैन से सो सकूँ मैं,
ऐसे विदा होने पर अता मुझे मेरे तिरंगे का कफन कर दे! !
ऐ मालिक, सिर्फ इतना-सा मुझपर तू करम दे! !
- सचिन अ॰ पाण्डेय

I want to drive him to the country and sit in the silence like dew.
And listen to the grass stained hills take little sips of air.
And listen to the roosters gasp for the light of the rising sun.
I want him to feel this – this Texas.
Where the crickets croak eternal  
and the cayotes call confused to country dogs like the wild.
I want to drive him to the country and weep excess tears
down our cold, city scathed cheeks
in rhythm with the birds as they sing their morning songs –
and swoon each other awake.
Who will swallow the worm as prey?
And you’ll hear them say:
maybe it isn’t so much about all you do and do and do?
and the sun’s lips share the same message,
but only to the few who know a Texas country morning
like a well-kept secret:
whose cups catch the cows stretching when they wake.

I want to drive him to the country and cry
and decide what life is like in synchronous solitude
with her timelessness
Singing of Dawn’s baby yawn -
the sound of her silence a sweet surprise.
Her fingertips linger
on each blade, on each bend, on each bug and tree.
I want him to understand the longing in each whistle and tune –
for country cravings aren’t satisfied with one lover’s hand,
but imbued with the light touch of a million–
all abundant in each drop of river and pond.
And when he sees the shadow of fences lining pasture walls
and reflecting on the wet ground,
we’ll turn on the engine and drive away.
The day will forget, with its ever-searching eyes,
what it saw in that morning sky.
But the body will remember – as it does
with each kiss, with each touch and scent,
sweet, sweet Texas will whisper her fingertips full of song –
and the birds will sing, and the worms will whine,
and the dew will drip as your senses will rise.

Martial Epigrams

You ask me why I've sent you no new verses?
There might be reverses.
—Martial, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

You ask me to recite my poems to you?
I know how you'll "recite" them, if I do.
—Martial, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

You ask me why I choose to live elsewhere?
You're not there.
—Martial, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

You ask me why I love fresh country air?
You're not befouling it there.
—Martial, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

You never wrote a poem,
yet criticize mine?
Stop abusing me or write something fine
of your own!
—Martial, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

He starts everything but finishes nothing;
thus I suspect there's no end to his *******.
—Martial, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

You alone own prime land, dandy!
Gold, money, the finest porcelain—you alone!
The best wines of the most famous vintages—you alone!
Discrimination and wit—you alone!
You have it all—who can deny that you alone are set for life?
But everyone has had your wife—
she is never alone!
—Martial, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

You dine in great magnificence
while offering guests a pittance.
Sextus, did you invite
friends to dinner tonight
to impress us with your enormous appetite?
—Martial, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Coq au vin
by Martial, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

1.
Hosts always invite you to dinner, Phoebe,
but are you merely an éclair to the greedy?

2.
Hosts always invite you to dinner, Phoebe,
but are you **** Amaro to the greedy?

Amaro is an after-dinner liqueur thought to aid the digestion after a large meal.

3.
Hosts always invite you to dinner, Phoebe,
but are you an aperitif to the greedy?

4.
Hosts always invite you to dinner, Phoebe,
but they’re pimps to the seedy.

Ad cenam invitant omnes te, Phoebe, cinaedi.
mentula quem pascit, non, ****, purus **** est.

Keywords/Tags: Martial, translation, Latin, epigram, verse, recite, wit, discrimination, country, air, dandy, wine, wife, dinner, appetite

they said
”uhuhuh imma buy a big gun
bazooka 47
and imma **** of dem zombies
cause dey
surely *******”
and i can’t say nothing to them
cause
i don’t know that they’re not coming
the way things going

tall, prickly, and dangerous
I see your back in town
last time here you left me
but I've made a country crown
these wildflowers are deadly
don't mess with me this time
ill rattle out in warning
don't dare you cross that line
I'm the sheriff in town now
and you've yeed you're last haw
this ain't the rodeo lass
you'll surrender to the law
I know you, oh Saguaro
how you look above the rest
but when you die its only bone
a skeleton at best

I want to be your
lumberjack.
I'll wear red flannel shirts all
the time, and grow a scraggly
beard like Thoreau.
We could cuddle by the
fireplace on
cold winter nights.
You can grow a garden,
with potatoes and asparagus.
We can climb mountains
and hunt bears.
I could make a rug from
it's hide, and a necklace
from its claws.
I want to be your lumberjack.
In the summer,
we could skinny-dip in the
pond, by moonlight and
make love in the
dew soaked grass.
we could have a
coonhound named Festus,
and gobs of kids.
I would build a tire swing in an
old Oaktree.
**** this ****** city
with it's treachery and
its concrete.
Lets go where the fire-flies live.
I want to be your lumberjack.

Our feet scuffed drying ruts
along the riverbank
and we gave the land
our thanks for holding up

Alongside us, green bright head
curious,
a duck and drake kept pace

I know the quizzical eye
was a bread request
but you’re as lucky as the rest of us

Above us, swimming languid
in unbounded blue
two buzzards circled

My mind got to thinking:
what fate are they
hoping for?