FOUR POEMS

WORDS: NICK MARTINO

IMAGES: WILL RUSSACK

The Company of Shadows

It is a small wonder
That chromium fount
The shower
Where in a tachycardic bliss

I stand
Still and purposeful
Purposeful and still
As the water

Surging from nozzlers
Washing my feet
Cycling though
Subterranean channels

Emerges
In the company of shadows
Again and again
In everlasting


The Company of Women

In the company of women
I am not fit
To ennoble a panther
To ennoble a lion
To ennoble a wolf


The Company of Fire 

Here is where I confess
I am flammable.

It is not due
To my bones,
Which makes a dull, hollow 
Sound when I knock.

It is not due to 
The nitrogen-rich sky
Nor even the earth 
And all its tinder.

Here is where I confess 
I keep the company of fire.

In a flame,
Air is no more, is fire.
This is a transaction 
That is endless.

What is this world
Where one thing
Cannot also be another?
I am a thing made elsewhere.

This is an irredeemable tension: 
Myself and elsewhere.
Always am I moving
From one point to another.

What is this world
Where one person
Cannot be here
And gone

All at once?
No longer can I say 
I want to go home.
I am already there.