http://slow.writerscafe.org/kmartell The original writings of author kmartell en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776000650 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 a thousand yearsand  i am still sitting heredust... windows... yellow archeshaving falleni have been dead so long.......................people talk inane happy meal talkcars made the planet unbearableclean coal clean coal clean coalno one sees http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kmartell/1903331/ These few poems I leave, I don't write anymore. Having stopped. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kmartell/1703857/ I am living on venusthe sun has burst the atmosphere and the power has gone out.we struggle with flood and famine. my hands are arthritic and I have lost most of my family.I dream: IN the dream my fathers exact voice speaks to me from death. He is just as there as he ever was. Life and death: the do.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kmartell/1684348/ At a certain point nothing makes sense and the viewer isenthralled by thatthe electric fan hums it's hurt, thebedroom is forbidden.At certain times the places all feelbrokenI point a finger through the air atwhat isn't there thick with nothingness it is.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kmartell/1614117/ I refuse to pick up my mail at this newplaceor write the addressthe bathroom smells funnyand food doesnt taste quite right.Somethingabout the stove and the lights all feel wrong and I wont talk to any of the neighbors. I keep a rope in the front closet andpracti.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kmartell/1614088/ The wind-I wish I could bend everythingand still make it work, notangst, worse than that even (imagine)but trouble none the lessa wind that comes down the chimneyand runs through my house, opening doorsscreaming and then growing stillI wish for the past, .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kmartell/1614070/ I fear the itching upstairs like badawful heavena room incomprehensiblewhere nothing would be welcomeit is of course the upstairs neighborandnothing else I imagine it to beso like a piece of chocolate death Ieat cake as he walks hitting the same creakingspot (agai.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kmartell/1614016/ there is no good reasonbut that makes me wise, i meanthe lack of reasondoes.if you dont get that then you and i would probably sit with our coffeesat the mall book store and have nothing to say http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kmartell/1602773/ how do you spell misquito http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kmartell/1602772/ i hate people who have to say something all the time.renowned experts and such.well i dont hate themanywaysi had a rabbit once i just had to have it and i begged and begged my fatherfinally he said yesand everyone in the family gathered aroundand we built a special wire and wood cage for the rabbita.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kmartell/1597650/ bipolar monkeys-when depressed sweep the floor.it may not always help butat least you will have a clean house.i have a friend who dispenses wisdomlike a gum ball machine.it makes him feel better i assumeso by him feeling better  it helps me to feel better too.sometimes when in the middle of thi.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kmartell/1597635/ If I had too many Canada geese, or Crooked teethOr a room when I was a kid, pickled beets, potatoes in the cellarBrown dead leaves in November visiting Mrs Kindle Who had a ticking windup alarm clock to tell time withTicking away, three hours too late, two hours too early, asking us kids  .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kmartell/1572832/ i felt like writing this poem about redonly red as i was crossing a streeta memory a realization of red that red was in-finite in the night rain red as only red can be red　 http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kmartell/1572827/ we have one of those roundy round clotheslines. the wind is blowing hard, the clothes line cannot make up its mind,it keeps turning then stoppingturning then stopping. meanwhile i have coffee, black no sugar. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kmartell/1512911/ The dry air tips night toward jupiter,the day toward the black space and I haveobsessive knots turning frozen fingers...the telescope's mount burns my fingers,seeing earth where the farm lights keep going outacross the snow the past eternity... the Orionconste.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kmartell/1492624/ I thought I could spot myself nearingthe nightready to open my confession mouth wideletting in everything I couldnt say hung hung hung went the wordscaught therethen I wept, no kiddingcrying out in the snow because (they, my therapist, leaning back,.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kmartell/1492605/ Cabbageheads liberated, setaparton a bench in the garage  other rattling leaves drift across the cement floorarriving from the cold garden last, hardened sunflower mule earsgone to brown  hung upside downby their stalks tied together looking aboutwithout eyesat the world they are leavingth.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kmartell/1254111/ you cannot go there, like black and white (holsteins) in the pasture to the side of the house you cannot go there  we are children there and the water in the brook stands up falling like a doorit is always late the trees want something from usas we play absorbing games in fe.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kmartell/1234298/ my children pass by, this poem is incomplete http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kmartell/1234294/ Could notcollapse I want a drink I want the foolish lick of vodka and orange juiceI awoke after a smather'd pasted falling down (drunken)I want to slip slide somewhere west and east and not be here butrise from sleepI wish to find myself not here when I awake.alive in the window the wretched mind wi.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kmartell/1230544/ sitting in the middle of a field at 2a.m. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kmartell/1215279/ we climbed higher and higherbugs, snakes,  the presure of climbing must have entered my head i should have known better than take a twelve year old i should have plannedone balogny sandwich each not enough waterit made me sad  later that a mentally ill persontook his daughter &nb.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kmartell/1184676/ a poem for everyone who wants to listen. i miss the old word processor and before that the type writer and before that my valuable notebooks.i was crazy once and sat in the middle of my family writing social philosophyrapidfire every word leading beyond to ideaseach idea so great i couldn'.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kmartell/1184664/ it wont let upi notice my hands are looking older)it is illness and i remember what i thought  being was, and then just so...find that being is stillguiding me somehow, is that God? http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kmartell/1142096/  drowning, i should have known i would what with constant reaching inside myself to pronounce things, grabbing the vermont roadmap covering my mouth when I sneezed leaning talking,  flicking the wheeltrying to find east callasthen I move.&.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kmartell/1129533/   the nothing of the mail box never delivers a letter to mebut a box would be good.strapped around about without handles, my life a notice in the local paper a good long drop beneath everything with me thinking the world in my head, a philosophers stone, i have ple.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kmartell/1129531/ really upside downwith worms comingout your mouth and smooth...no, hardnightmare consequences in the middle of the day and all the people theypass byon the swanton to st albans  bus. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kmartell/1129528/ i step my feet  through a fenceenter a forest alone georgia mountain  what can ring the bell of a tree  summer wind whispered wild notions to mesaying    i lost those i lovei lie over there behind the stone wallin trees a graveyard  17.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kmartell/1121905/ heat summer heat, hay bales, working, throwing bales over our heads placing bales in a wagontracktor engine, gas line smell heat everywhere after working so hard under the sunsweat, trickles off the nose, the only place not hot is the milkhouse, water on the floor, running into a drain, white c.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kmartell/1121896/  cows lean into the side of a mountain pastureripping grass.  so steep you can't bale or mow it  mountains. fletcher Vt.perfect.   http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kmartell/1121883/    bright daydreams of a dog on asidewalk thenI step on my own shadow,  follow it into beverage-mart for a turkey bacon sub.I come out.   in cars leaning, banging doors with fistsleveraged bygravity, contempt,  an angry fac.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kmartell/1114938/ everytime the wilsons next door went out they took the catit was a clattering regergetationa word sprung bright as the dayevery time the wilsons went out one of them would begin a circular argumentand the other would nod at the fencepost and saysomething about the lawneverytime the wilsons went out .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kmartell/1114101/  Wake up someday we will be walking around with wires coming out of our heads and no one will notice a thing. Wake up. boats leave the harbor everyday, i may be on one of them soon. my mother is at home watching television, the empty part of my head sings a song about sugar frosted flakes.&nbsp.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kmartell/1114095/ What may I expect, explosionsWindows artfully smashedBirds thrownEverywhere  why might I thinkThe emptiness, this emptiness  here, now Could explainThe door to my apartment being sabotaged  (Sunlight a pen on paper My chair  it&rsquo.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kmartell/1113025/ i cannot tell what it isit dont movehardly narya bitit bites though in a  pincher kind of waysummer sand fleespractical as thememotive, broke, tore into me a cominga coming. a motion without store like a dog after he bites youcoming into me again and again taking away breath  turns the wor.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kmartell/1105080/    The trouble with everything IsWhere it leaves meso alone i dont feel alone like an idiot reading the news  plunging out of my heart with coffeePressed for time I cannot find a clock iLeave this table the waitress  is d.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kmartell/1075578/ havent written it yet http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kmartell/1055332/ fine little fingers bent holding content....lifethumb...so perfect in the womb we had to go to a big hospital to make it seemok  i being the father but it wasnt my decision. a boy apparently though what was the difference onceit had been donewhat was the difference .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kmartell/1050537/ for deathto amount to anythinga crumbling announcement  time arriving begun by another announcement no one seemed to hear ends in  carrying an umbrella  in the rain  myself looking  abjectlymomentarily,as you are lowereddownnothing more for the .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kmartell/1049555/ bewilderment is a night wordthe souls' lift-off ,the owl flashes,  the moon  has a face   memory' captures the heartlike that, an owl's talons sudden ripping. dreams are memories  without legs,nature isbrutish at night  and  revelationscome across a .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kmartell/1047306/    time stretches and stretches until it is one moment       http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kmartell/1041876/  one black thing of lightless oceans concern  rakes the eye   absolute commonalitystars...no moon, wind twists around trees   http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kmartell/1026774/ words are not dreams wordsmove freelydreams  makea  ship...made ofdreams legless memoriesnight's whena man holds up his hand a dog barks a man in a dream holds up his handshowinga vast resurrection...looking to take on boardlife, restless shades passing unto death&n.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kmartell/1017372/  i would turn over and die lightwould be a memoryi wrote to my son who was in the armyi wrote my daughtersayingtrees  bendwind is windthrown into the air not mine not yourswheels came out mymouthEzekiel i tried to tell someonewho it wasEzekieli tried all the doorsi chewed&nb.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kmartell/1005559/ a thing poem http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kmartell/993725/ now she turns the sky turns thesunlight arrives from spacemindful i let it happenthe yellow yard the repeating lineuntil i let slip let thought pass on notabout anythingthe dirt in the yellow yard hinges made of rust squawk open pushed by wind thething itself&.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kmartell/986989/ some  lingering doubt ...your job is to say somethingthey have tied you to a chair they want to put you into  a suitcaseit is like some motionless soul inside the suitcase the train is barking and a dog andthere are summer trees whispering but you feel nothingsomeone ha.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kmartell/985695/ It's easy to write the first chapter. How in heck do I get more .....tell me. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kmartell/984078/ Here's my question does anyone else have this problem, I write a fairly good starting chapter or so, But once done, I cannot approach the work again. It is as though I will never finish anything! http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kmartell/984072/ Oh it's that doctor I can't use my legsnot in the proverbial sense. But in the sense in which I cannot talk about, the senseperhaps in which I type my sisters nameover and overdown a sheet of paper. Oh doctorthere are waves, one perhaps, coming.A big wave and I am on my surf board.A d.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kmartell/983618/