Aaron Barth-Martinson Poems

What moves the pen; the breath, the mind?
A soothing jest by friends in time?
A death- a Love that's flown on Faith?
That Hope, misplaced by wretched men;
...

How many times have we humans died?
Has the hoarfrost enveloped our only world?
Have we had to evolve for self indulgence
Self punishment, self sacrament, stretched
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It bothers me to know
That although we fall asleep embraced
My arm tucked up behind your neck
My face facing your upper back
...

Within a tomb
Or just a room,
A catacombs
Or just the place to kneel;
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Every facet of her phrases
Freeze and crystallize
Hidden trinkets deeply bedded
Within her crystal eyes
...

Short road
Odd bent trees
Long episode
Of me
...