Freeze Dryed Poem by nathan martin

it is the atomic weight of it that matters most.

violent barbiturate toungues empty coffee cups
and deliver the insight.

before there was religion there
was foldgers dry roast.

before the lunar landing there
was instant oatmeal.

still my toungue is heavy with saliva.

i shall not lie.



it is the form that matters least.

the patient deconstruction of all
unsound perspectives.

bright and ultra bright scientific
notations fell from heaven like lightening.

the witnesses annotated cauterized edges
and spoke in the most literal sense.

before there was a mother there
was a mosaic womb.

before there was a helix faith
there was a clay parable.

still the pencil aches in the
palm of my hand.

i shall not murder.



it is the face of the masses that matters most.

catching low tide shells in between shallow moons.

fringed hands count down the gene pool legend,
seperated only by accented lips.

before there was a cleric in a robe
there was a tilt in the axis.

before there was a fat bellied fertility goddess
there was a splinter in a finger.

still my stomach is full of acrid
compound naratives.

i shall not want.