October 2021 – novamartinpoetry.com

Poems

Prayer For One Of The Languages Of The Woods

And the Woman of The Woods said,

“Thank you for teaching me
the language of the woods,
its stillness,
in these carved autumn nights.

Thank you for time,
now
and however anciently forever.
It’s just right there,
it and the world of forms.

Oh goodness,
thank you for breaking space travel,
death, celebrities, and Instagram.

God, thanks for these realizations,
… or rather, I should say; reckonings.

To be reduced, humbled, then filled
with light.

All that go solo cannot be solo.
All that be collectively can only be one.

No beings,
but beingness, only beingness are we.

Speak in that tongue.

Come, let me kiss your lips.
Let me kiss your tussen bark.”

Poems

Lesbian Kiss In Capitalism

God, your lips.
Wait, not that “god”.

Just your lips.

In lesbian love
with each other,
ripped that masculinity
from the Aegean
in ancient times,
they did
on some days, in some regions.

Then why not now?

Why can’t the air be ours?

Or why not the fruit trees by the
weathered windows from Naples?

Why is winter always judged?

Your lips do this thing to me
when the hearth fire burns,
endless rains fall from the sky,
and my bones feel cold, mineral,
and hollow.

Your lips; slain, succulent and laid out
in my mind across everyday for
the rest of living,
similar to sunrises
in so many collected mortal eons.
They uplift a TV repair shop
in Oregon,
upholding what must be heaven.

They turn from smooth beige
and melt into translucent metal.
Do they?
They do.
They melt my flower.

Poems

Our Ways To Death

As we fall to our death
from the sky,
30,000 feet from a crashing plane,
I embrace you,
hold you,
wrap all of myself around you
to protect you,
give every core of my body over
to providing refuge and solitude
to you in our final moments as we fall.
You kick out in anger,
in reflex,
in animalistic rebellion,
a fawn with her leg trapped in a fence,
and we split off and fall to our deaths
alone.
Me in tears and lost.
You in fear, freaked out, and fighting
ghosts who should’ve loved you.
Til the earth breaks our angelic selves
and busts the breath in our lungs
to nothing and everything else.