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- 112 pages
- English
- ePUB (mobile friendly)
- Available on iOS & Android
eBook - ePub
Things to Do in Hell
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About This Book
Join Chris Martin for a poetic walking tour of hellâor is it heaven? In this wickedly clever collection, Martin asks how we go about living in the tension between protesting lunatic politicians and picking up the kids from school, mourning a dying Earth and making soup, combating white supremacy and loving our dear ones. Martin's poems pick at the tender scabs protecting our national and individual identities, and call for more honest healing. Things to Do in Hell channels 2016 anger into 2020 action with sophisticated, rhythmic verse that compels us to beat our swords into ploughshares and join the fight.
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PALINODE
Dying out, dying in
A crowd of impossible people
Seed back to swagger
Of concussive light
A crowd of impossible people
In the generalized insolence
Of concussive light
A bedraggled bee priest
In the generalized insolence
Until stumbling on purpose became a kind of dance
A bedraggled bee priest
Calling this song appropriate fever
Until stumbling on purpose became a kind of dance
And scraping clues from the sloughed eggshell of zero
Calling this song appropriate fever
As melody spools loose
And scraping clues from the sloughed eggshell of zero
Courting not what coheres
As melody spools loose
Minus batteries, bladder full, excess arteries
Courting not what coheres
We follow only putrefaction
Minus batteries, bladder full, excess arteries
Pickled and fetal in a slow formaldehyde waltz
We follow only putrefaction
All of our plural in the surge and blur
Pickled and fetal in a slow formaldehyde waltz
I will love you more
All of our plural in the surge and blur
While at home like a sold flower
I will love you more
In fits of unpaid disavowal
While at home like a sold flower
A circle whose center is everywhere
In fits of unpaid disavowal
And crashing down with heavenâs offal
A circle whose center is everywhere
I want to be serrated
And crashing down with heavenâs offal
Prowling an ersatz horizon
I want to be serrated
Licking a speckled fender
Prowling an ersatz horizon
Where the you finally becomes you
Licking a speckled fender
With pagan longing
Where the you finally becomes you
In a library where the dead crest on waves of pelvic light
With pagan longing
They called it a poem
In a library where the dead crest on waves of pelvic light
Horrifying the merest fact into choreography
They called it a poem
Where an evening cloud stains the nasturtiums
Horrifying the merest fact into choreography
She asked me to hold her like an octopus
Where an evening cloud stains the nasturtiums
Posting torrid flowers of true rage
She asked me to hold her like an octopus
At the worldâs wet, unfinished edge
Posting torrid flowers of true rage
The guy at the bodega
At the worldâs wet, unfinished edge
Is asking whatâs safer
The guy at the bodega
Compulsively parts
Is asking whatâs safer
To be the sword or
Compulsively parts
The curtain of his lip
To be the sword or
The flesh opening a way forward
The curtain of his lip
In the vibration between selves
The flesh opening a way forward
To accumulate in a spare room
In the vibration between selves
Aggregate pulse
To accumulate in a spare room
The hundred billion stairs blood walks in silence
Aggregate pulse
Tricking pauses into cinema
The hundred billion stairs blood walks in silence
Knowing we could say anything now
Tricking pauses into cinema
Time is one fucked-up dude
Knowing we could say anything now
Fledged between cracked marble
Time is one fucked-up dude
Like a willow huffing rat breath in a half-frozen field
Fledged between cracked marble
This country is leaving this country
Like a willow huffing rat breath in a half-frozen field
A hymn is what we most resemble
This country is leaving this country
Nothing but rhythm
A hymn is what we most resemble
In his deepest red and flaming robe
Nothing but rhythm
I came apart and they called it laughing
In his deepest red and flaming robe
A little object spoke
I came apart and they called it laughing
My hand on your back in the opening to the cave
A little object spoke
My ear so far...
Table of contents
- Cover
- Title Page
- Copyright
- Contents
- Epilogue
- Zealous
- Palinode
- Yes the Animals
- Things to Do in Hell
- Exit
- Walking Tour of an Imaginary Homeland
- Wound
- An Ouroboros of True Forgiveness
- Vicious This
- Walking Tour of We No Longer Live inside the Whale
- Unified
- Secret Menu
- The Next Day and Thrum
- Breakup Mixtape
- Says I
- Itters
- Really
- If You Lived Here Youâd Be Dead Already
- Quickly If Never
- Not a Few Wander Homeless on Darksome Paths
- Past
- Everything Else
- Owns Even the Slow
- DĂ©nouement
- Never By
- A Game in Which Losing Is Inconsequential
- Lecture on Western Music
- A Big Hungry Us
- Deciduous Hymn
- A Small Human Being Breaks Everything
- My Ungodly
- Flags of Surrender
- Lesson
- After Dawn
- Knowing I Still Donât
- Pain and Mercy
- Jump from Fly
- This Is Just to Say
- Honey
- Itâs Like They Always Say
- Gasp the Reason
- Brighter Office in Dayâs Mistake
- Forget How to Speak
- Answers
- Except
- Y
- Deepen
- Y R U O K
- Curdled Like All
- In the Circle Whose Center Is Everywhere
- Bore
- Fifty Shitty Heavens
- And
- Preface
- Notes
- Acknowledgments