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Three Poems

Tim Martin

For Sven and Olga and a Little Bit of Me,
             Thanks for all the fish. – Douglas Adams

when a child myself still
left for swedish mom and pop
posttraumatic children with hard candy
love with bears like it was coastal
it was our halcion days with pink pills
and this was our memorandum
we did not think betrayal
but old countries where safety
acid pumped from our systems
felonious purchases and misnamed
trust in the time of civil rights
our loose grips and golf course geese
canned responses we have today
turn over in burned out cars

             He's a nice guy; he just has a lot of video rentals to return. -Liz Garrott

now everyone will think
sea warnings as unsubtle as hags
with broken francophone
now this is not unforgiving
the queens english of their god
but bone swinging monkeys in a
range of continental climes
exposed to after fed torpor
when role playing fantasies
bore down in mouse nests
comfortable of your people
a plan of slow poison
that authorizes lip readings
a few passages are yours

Travel Mouth

if he thought sales lingo
or perhaps a broulet torch
would have attended to sunrise
if you believe in fairies
angels from a world myth
all this way with lost rings
at the terminal & a boyfriend
from new jersey
not second marriage serious
but late and transcontinental
at the bed of the death goddess
never listening to confession
good for you
but in this accent, he's powerless
billed to educational outings
this is responsibility
this airframe in the rocky mountains
preferable to new york in tourist season
this is pharmaceuticals
this is for your safety
this is passing time
in curious early american literature
all binary and godly
converting lolita or a daughter
with a miamian flavor
my martini
in minneapolis dimness
how is three hours
in the ends of the earth?
eagle feather wiped across the face
of injury and panic attacks
now that was an october
and not this month at all
stability in icy skies
this transit authority
forced to believe
christ, this song