Poems by Chris Martin

The street lamp shines on a space

The hourglass in the palm of her hand

If this were a cartoon there'd be the sound of screeching

Is it raining out

Two slabs of asphalt meet

The first step was the slowest

Shall I compare thee to a blade

Nose to nose you sit engrossed

Gravity and anger work like

Must everything be so much larger than life

The place was so hip they called it 36

I got so sick of Politics and hiding from it

I'd like to say suck-cess

It seems rather understandable that

But Captain you're crazy

Poems by Chris Martin
June.22.04 July.7.04	I note these words leave your body If there is wilderness anywhere beyond your fences
(from The Secret Admirer's Bank Account)
Sept.8.92 Sept.11.92 Sept.15.92 Sept.15.92 Sept.15.92 Sept.23.92 Oct.3.92 Oct.6.92 Oct.6.92 Oct.15.92 Oct.15.92 Oct.27.92 Oct.29.92 Nov.1.92 Nov.2.92	The street lamp shines on a space The hourglass in the palm of her hand If this were a cartoon there'd be the sound of screeching Is it raining out Two slabs of asphalt meet The first step was the slowest Shall I compare thee to a blade Nose to nose you sit engrossed Gravity and anger work like Must everything be so much larger than life The place was so hip they called it 36 I got so sick of Politics and hiding from it I'd like to say suck-cess It seems rather understandable that But Captain you're crazy