Texas – novamartinpoetry.com

Poems

JoAnn’s Ass

You could create a civilization

around her ass.

You could solve all the world’s

problems with her ass.

Defeat bigotry and fascism,

cure cancer,

heal our planet,

save the children,

bring back Jesus,

and undo capitalism.

Yes, I would do anything that ass

were to ask of me.

And her ass is really just the

cherry on top of an incredible

performer, musician, and

good person.

This ass belongs to JoAnn,

a punk rock vixen,

lead singer of Hen & The Cocks

from lovingly weird Denton, Texas.

You have read that correctly;

Denton, Texas is home to the

world’s greatest ass.

Poems

When you had a tumor
I went down to the giant
wizardly oak trees
along the Trinity River
in the center of Fort Worth
and I prayed.
I told the trees there was
someone special to me
who was sick, who needed help,
whom I hoped they would heal.
This was early Spring of 2018
and the trees still had not grown
their leaves or buds.
The trees were dreaming still.
In their dream space
I saw your sister who had passed
and she stood between portals,
showing how time was
multidimensional
and we could move through
the portals.
I envisioned the rings inside the trees
and that through them
we could go back in time
and there in the past,
heal your body,
or at least take it on a different
path of cellular development.
I felt them. Asked them.
They guided me.
This was my first time
encountering the wizardry of trees.
I took two giant acorns
from their basin
and kept them as talismans.
I believe that not only did
these wizard trees
optimize your cellular configuration
but they opened a path in time
that led to our golden years of love,
living out at the country houses together,
watching sunsets,
chasing fire flies through the big field
under moonlight,
holding you like a baby in my arms
in the oak forest,
playing countless guitar songs to you
that you always meowed to,
and you watching me turn from a druid
into a druidess.

Poems

It is everlasting here,

where we have lost love.

Poems

Go Back

I can’t go back
to her apartment drunk
at 3 o’clock in the morning,
watching her gorgeous blue eyes
watch me
and her ripe full lips talk to me
underneath her shroud of
cherry red hair.

She’s dead.

Washed out alone in her car
in a flash flood in Texas.

Texas is still the frontier.

On the frontier you die alone.
And the politicians of Texas
ensure it remains the frontier
so
people can die alone,
unaided, unsupported,
free from the tyranny of assistance.

Like the end days of marketization say,
sensitive to its place in the timeline of humanity —
do not come here.

Do not go to Texas.

The pristine, new, symbiotic cities exist afar.
Go there,
survive, adjust,
be the next version of humanity
and live.

The 254 eunuchs
serve first
the dying beast of an exploited land.

Every man for himself.

Increased capitalized wealth.

God,
keep us free from other people.

Until none of this matters at all.

Poems

The Huntress, The Burrito, The Goats

She looks out the window
with blue eyes,
her breakfast burrito in hand,
the light of the day slices
gold streaks
upon them.
And she finds that the goats
once playing with each other,
headbutting heads,
have tired,
then she realizes
nothing lasts forever,
everything eventually expires.

Her head feels better.
Her mind more clear now.

Poetry by W.T. tuqMairtin

Poems

Love After Isolation

You live with it,
you sleep with it.
It’s your computer.

You take it to the shed,
there is wood and wood to chop,
your computer sits in front of
a can of turpentine.

The grass grows tall outside,
you are at a farm in Texas.

O Penthius!
Penth Fist!
our world is made of bone and air!

The sun shines in through the window
onto your computer.

– Poetry by W.T. tuqMairtin

Poems

New Luxury Apartments

For hundreds of millions of years
the cliffs above the South San Gabriel River
stood with white rocks, tallgrass, and
old curled oak trees.

But coming this fall
NEW LUXURY APARTMENTS
will replace all that
where engineers with halitosis
who design military weaponry
for the largest employer in the county,
play video games,
watch sports at chain sports bars,
buy seventy inch TVs,
vacation on cruises,
and eat lots of cereal and bulk bags of
beef jerky from Costco
to perfect a certain stale fecal scent
on their breath
that soon the beige sheetrock walls
of the NEW LUXURY APARTMENTS
will have the pleasure of absorbing.

– Poetry by W.T. tuqMairtin