Poems by Joshua Martin

THREADED INTO A SAUCE

Mourn spouse separate splints
groaning glassy pelvic veneration stumps
as thorough haze with chaotic underwater
caving pressurized morticians. Cosmos
blend evaluated vinyl mumps without
exhaling televised whips. Sneezing.

Throat clearly labeled evaporation
still bunching beneath cravats
robotic yet pocket-sized. Arrogant
trip as a carrot lanyard. Relish
customized routine funnel. If
battled forlorn mutations.

Adage postcard ramble. Sculpted
to wither indirect formaldehyde
inching nearest summer’s ear
that dangles. Average. Brunt.
Radiating slanted biproducts to
which guessing only reveals edges
staring plainly through peepholes
covered in tar starts bluntly
provoked. Mangled. Refined.


CULMINATION AND ROUTE: THE ATTEMPTED PROVOCATEURS

Delegate expressed thoughts
(paradoxical), relying but their tactics
were at that time untimely. An extremely
valuable testimony of an irreproachable witness!

“We (at least many of us)”
says toward amounted gigantic planets.

As an enemy, already outdated,
here omit the March captivity
for almost two decades.

“Were unconsciously steering no question”
gave the slogan of a division of labor,
the foundational position.

“Happy” to vote after the lesser,
they gave the wrong blame for bloody encounters.

“You can overthrow the hands of theses”
consisted in an attempt eclipsed
by order of not numerous but bustling.

Not prevailing.

Gardens, a proclamation
ending a moreover dirty-handed
revolution. Catastrophe!

Famous distort,
a monstrous adventure.

“To be thrown out of the scales”
preached twenty-four hours
in the eyes of votes against.

Resounding episode
possessing an alluring slogan.

To portray circles.
Flatly denies
attempted counter-revolution.

Also to the skin.

Transfer the sitting fortress
from attack, “are shooting us.”

Was warning,
enjoying lofty protection
of all kinds.

Crooks with cartridges,
there is nothing unlikely in that.