Thomas James Martin

a
poem
of
light
...

day moon
faint smell
of snap beans
...

watching the stars
until the stars
are just stars
...

for Joyce

My hands remember your brightness
Your face graces the morning
...

Burrowing Owls are found in open, dry grasslands, agricultural and range lands, and desert habitats often associated with burrowing animals, particularly prairie dogs, ground squirrels and badgers.

Yes, I love a hole in the ground
(I didn't even dig it.)
...

Morning glories light the morning
Hummingbirds bloom in every blossom's breath
Flickering of gold dust shook from tiny heads;
...

Chapel Hill,1975


My hands remember your brightness
...

Freedom, freedom, prison of the Free. ~Lawrence Durrell

'Just remember We love you, ” he says,
This the first time, I remember,
...

Drinking your coffee
And sipping your beer
Alone and palely loitering,
Sleeping on the Heath
...

entangled
in the life
of the spider
...

People often left their unwanted pets near our house, off a rather isolated country road. I must have been about 8 years, and my brother about 5, when Fuzzy first appeared. We were playing on some long abandoned lumber. He immediately began 'speaking' with us using an assortment of short barks and growls, and since we were lonely, country kids with few friends and relations, we begged our parents to let us keep him. We named him 'Fuzzy, ' with his tangled mass of black, gray and white fur. He became our constant companion.

dark of the moon
glow of yellow eyes
...

'Be ye as wise as serpents' (Matthew 10: 16)

you live long enough
everything runs together
...

scent of

night-blooming jasmine
...

For Nancy, a childhood playmate who passionately loved horses,


He reared up suddenly on the hill,
...

Letting go again, I head North into the Big Time lonely and alone;
Thankful that no-thing delights and only half in love with night
I have learned to still this streaming mind,
I feel love rise in my tears
...

summer storm
on the sofa
her bra
...

I see grandmother's bonnet moving above the bramble.

My mother tells me not to keep eating berries.
My little pail fills so slowly.
...

I was ten when Hurricane Hazel passed over our farm in the
Piedmont of North Carolina. I really wanted to see
that eye. When the wind stopped howling, I rushed out the back door. In the stillness my eyes were
drawn upward.
...

...

fingernail moon
all that's left
of the argument
...