From the 2019 Collection "2222"
#222 #2222 #comedy #existential #jmartindean
Trees poke from the earth like the mummified hands of the martyrs. Buried alive, they strained with last breath
Mowing with the sickle I stop abruptly and remember crawling out the window to smoke on the roof
I feel newly acquainted with this skin, everything is novel, intensity is wherever my eyes land,
In your gut is an empire— Spells, tug of war, Holy Days, ascent, decline.
A tide of blood, miniature in compare— But an ocean no less, to the virus in there.
There, upon the loose dirt, I was a stone’s throw from her, Goddess Incarnate. She had snakes for hair, she had green flames for eyes,
Think you’re doing something? Thing you’ve got some power? You can walk on coals, swallow poison and live, but who is at the helm
Empty Avenue Death on the the installment plan Righteous lady, insolent man, I patience expired.
One of God’s tricks is, similar to Michael Jordan, It sinks a three-pointer with 1.2 seconds left on the clock,
(1) Under an open window I gaze out until the wonder is gon… Having run out of questions I fal… but perk up when a stray cat appea…
Nine times out of ten, it’s a demon you’re seeing, not an angel. They have all kinds of disguises, I know-I know,
I hear now a raucous party in the… Recognizable party tracks fun and… Laughter, joviality, intoxication… An early advent of unseasonal heat and the moment of festival and mat…
This day, there is no ONE to beat your fist… No party, no tyrant, not even a faction—
A council Wise Elders decide what mistakes are afforded who and tie color with number
There was on my property an old gnarled stump, it was weathered and hardened, It was aesthetically pleasing as d… but I decided to take it to a spec…