5 poems by Joshua Martin


Drifting into the Tape Machine & Rewound 


Has at half-mast/


            turned inward


not unlike the odor

unique to split pea



                        a violent drip,


            underneath sewing


bursts of applause.


                        men linking

                                                WRistS in

stubbornness               w/o

            enough                        potatoes to

                        invoke a stew.


To                     DANCE

            the                   dancing of

                        creased pants

legs                              &


            breath              which,

until just recently,

            had a twinge of the

tang so often un-


            in                     eyes of

sculpted                                   despondency.


                        ANOTHER     ringing of

a                                  bell


anthrax                        dream/


baroque in gesture

            tho                               broke


filled w/ the

            broken remnant













(listening to










this to a 



that again enough

to release bottoms

            & overtake

carnival merchants


            swim through

sludge/crude & rude

despise all that

floats like

            helium heads,


                        staggering loss






                        for a


                        of all 




            to them,

                        they shout:

                                    DOWN W/



For the blind sake of

chaotic glee,

            turned over/


            dripping like sugar


gross domestic product.


                        Deliver us from

                                    binge watching!


Devils to spurn,

seeds to fashion,

reject all authorities as



Technocrat disease,

bushes spilling

            from underpants.


                        Nothing to

            feel less secure about

than security.







lose control,











Forbidden Light Socket Drama Club Afterparty


I wandered through the leaping fish expo hall drunk on myopic logic while tying strings around my tender middle until there was no song left to spill from the vines strewn about willfully ignoring milk yarn & curdled infant tigers. A burial at dawn interrupted by the sounds of endless construction. I pressed a thorough example to my hairline so as to tattoo the endless Spam. There wasn’t even need for a methodology to the counting of bones of the hands as they ripped another scrambled egg out of the dance hall music lamentable & studious. Piecing together romantic stone age monuments. Tho a ring blew from the tips of my kneecap robots I couldn’t help but turn just in time to meet gazeless metamorphosis less varied than an icepick though the ear or a nostril stuffed into a jar of marmalade. Into flapping laundry on drooping clothesline. Damned to repeat algebraic symphonies for all holiday weekends. And not 9. Nor a smirk. W/o metaphor there still remain kites swinging sultry & mistaken in an engulfed kind of zoological principle tho not one that ever presents itself as a scale model. I lack mobile home. I spill missions. I clean cleaving close to hot air balloon disasters. A game of cards or two later.






Against Skunk Eyes


Lost again the maze of pear trees

crawling spine upward posing look

of the many varieties of shrieking

of the laurels given out in drives

to shake the seldom avenged night sweats

against skunk eyes

overwhelmed by loins



                        enough                        to



tho never longer than









                        Kicks that

                        come into

Play against

                        rock of

            ages                 splitting


                        also w/o                       a



also grabbing my suspender toes

until seaweed mist evaporates

in ringing bells lie sirens blaring

or a dumpster sounding operatic

then crazy in the realm of flinching

                                                to burp!

                                    or                     not


                                                burp                 but


                                                            of course

                                    that                              is






                                    verses              squeezed

                        until                 all




            been removed



been removed


            then                 kept in

a                      box












paid back.






Impulsive thumb sketch


Must i be

the duck


lingers in




                        of a





NAIL              sketch 

depicting                     JUPITER

with a







            i don’t know

&                     i

won’t ever be able

to admit.





stampeD ouT the

beD buG charlatan



            hing     could

prepare you for the


spilled from Jupiter

above a treeTRUNK


            of invading



Joshua Martin is a Philadelphia based writer and filmmaker, who currently works in a library. He is the author of the book Vagabond fragments of a hole (Schism Neuronics). He has had pieces previously published in E-ratio, Nauseated Drive, Fixator Press, The Vital Sparks, and Breakwater Review among others.