Poetry from Nova Martin – America's favorite transwoman feminist lesbian druidess poet
I will love you with your
genital herpes.
I promise I am valiant
and cannot find
the likes of such a woman
during any of the decades
before disease,
cannot find the man that makes
the machine
that makes disease,
but I understand the CIA
is hiring the best,
my dear lady, J. Edgar Hoover.
Poetry by W.T. tuqMairtin
When you kicked over those boxes
they knocked over the other boxes
containing the styrofoam cups.
It broke a lot of them.
You yelled “fuck you” at the boss one time
and you’ve never worked
when you weren’t being supervised.
I have yet to see you
put the broom and the dustpan up
at the end of the day.
The civil clerk is a good person
and usually is anyways
good
left up to others
to take care of tasks
would nothing become
someone else’s job is for Sunday
or some day of learning
does until done
what is needed on a morning
all parents die
Poetry by W.T. tuqMairtin
She seemed happy at the end of the day. I’ll
never say if this was the case. Her pay is
low, but I know she was happy to be back around
other people after being alone in her home for
five days during the ice storm. Nearing middle
age never scared her, she said she still loved to
rock out to the Steve Miller Band and during each
birthday she treated herself like a five year old
child at a pizza parlor party. There was something
wild about her in this moment, like seeing her
then, on one of those birthdays. It could be
that she was just glad to be back at work, or
what some would call “doing something”. I
personally think the greatest thing she’s done
all day is to appear bounding with happiness
at the end of the day, for me, herself and the
rest of the world. Even for the people she’ll see
in the convenience store on her drive home
when she stops to get some milk, shredded
orange cheese and eggs, to make dinner for her
husband who lives in another house a couple
acres behind her own house.
Poetry by W.T. tuqMairtin
Learned how to be a “valuable” worker
in a free-market economy.
Also learned to be a “team player”.
Did not learn to reject
the free-market economy
because that upsets
everyone else
still stuck
in the sham show shit scam mess.
This has a 99.9% chance
of being your postscript.
Poetry by W.T. tuqMairtin
At the Center For Questionable Thought
we waited on a delivery,
while waiting we chatted, talked,
watched the sun go down over the
fields outside the windows,
it bleached the air with some sort of electricity
that was orange
and it excited us and the insects out in the fields too.
We drank a couple beers, held their tastes,
smelled the smell of the old place,
I do recall a smell of dank linoleum.
We also did a bunch of filing of papers and organizing
all the boxes by their months and years.
We waited for the deliveries
and were congenial with each other as we did,
as we were inside that structure.
Poetry by W.T. tuqMairtin
You get to have 2 days off?
You guys are going to plug away at each other’s
buttholes
for 2 days straight.
Malachi answers
“Yes.”
“I’m going to try to keep my penis inside his ass
for the entire 48 hour period
until
I
have
to
go
back
to
work.”
Poetry by W.T. tuqMairtin
A world without elasticity
builds long memories in my dreams.
The world of having a job,
riding a train,
dreaming of retirement.
As I come in and see the
tall buildings.
Every second in time, I see,
this gets more and more
attuned.
The manner in which this is
all
broken into
perfectly controlled sectors
I cannot count.
– Poetry by W.T. tuqMairtin
They’re getting married.
They’re doing something that’s never done.
They’re having children.
They’re approaching pinnacles of life.
They’re buying batteries.
They’re doing what anyone can do.
They’re doing nothing.
They’re fixing food in the microwave.
They have a job.
They’re alone.
They’re sometimes cowards.
They impress management.
It’s not their fault.
They’re doing nothing.
– Poetry by W.T. tuqMairtin
from:
Antipoémus (poetry book)
novamartinpoetry.com 