Poetry from Nova Martin – America's favorite transwoman feminist lesbian druidess poet
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
We’re talking about a freedom
from money and power.
What do you mean?
Blank look.
We’re talking about a freedom
from money and power.
Looks at TV.
I don’t understand you.
I gotta go.
I’ll talk to you next week.
Poetry by W.T. tuqMairtin
Riot. Riot. Riots.
They have built a mountain out of
symbols.
A net, a web, a pedagogy of
controls.
Who was this man?
Who are the high-excluded,
the killers of the four Kennedys?
These star controllers
with patents and chipsets,
electrodes and diodes,
combines
colluding the genetic flora genomes,
oh, a far off quota
hidden in iron mountains under
different ultraviolet spectrums.
For we must be altered
so they there,
so they there can live.
Remember the Agora!
Remember the Forum!
But the riot. Riot. Riots
could stop this
if words could meet them
on the other side of the electrical
divide,
beyond the spell of electrical devices,
in their hearts out in the streets.
The riots inside of their hearts.
Poetry by W.T. tuqMairtin
When I am old,
hysterical and worn out,
running from the farm,
just shoot me in the head.
Don’t let me get off the farm.
When you’re done with the shooting of me
in the head
shoot me in the throat
to stop my soul.
Have a dinner for me that night,
back on the farm,
with red wine, root vegetables
and some type of roasted pheasant.
Don’t let me get off the farm,
even if you have to throw rocks
on my chest
to keep the gravity held down and balanced.
Don’t let me get off the farm.
The gravity and the farm are old friends,
synonymous in a way with each other.
Gravity’s high-volume generation farm
exists in the asteroid fields just beyond Mars.
DO
NOT
LET ME
GET THAT FAR
in the symbolism of intellectualism.
novamartinpoetry.com 