Martin A. Ramos

Tonight the beach is calm,
tide pregnant with crabs.
Carib moon out; shadows
frolic outside like
...

black woman
woman black
sing to me
sing to me
...

A simple pleasure
composing one good line
...

Goblin, goblin, burning white
in what hell are you tonight?
...

Beneath my wings,
a writer sings.
No fear of flying,
the proof's in trying.
...

Timid as a moth
my willing wings embrace
the hollow of her love;
dark on the sheet her face.
...

I know the sparrow in the marrow
of your bones.
And in the spring, closely within
your pirouettes I follow
...

Icarus fell.
The farmer in the field saw
...

A poet lurked for poems
in the woods near Walden Pond.
She surveyed the ground once trod
by Walden himself, and secured her traps
...

Der were ratz in the suflé again.
My moder gave me ratz to eet.
Cellar ratz, in the suflé, again.
Has my moder ever eeten ratz?
...

together we two
masculine arms stretching, reaching
feminine arms embracing, caressing
both creating
...

Clawgrip, clawbite
and wings that slay
fly hard, thrust straight
the bird of prey.
...

Poet: how you must have bled for her, must
have wriggled and squirmed, spilling your blood
...

early morning mist
already the barn fowl scavenging
but not the dragonflies
...

Dear Jane:
I thought with all the
protests and planning
the rioting, picketing
...

The apprentice went to see his master.
Utensils in hand, the master sat under
The bough of a tree laden with cherry blossoms.
Master, you’re writing I see.
...

i am the fetus within she
throbbing membranous love
begotten by aspiring they
the slow descent into alive
...