damn he damn done left us
packed up and blew with the wind
and we know no way to see him again
and the sky everywhere tastes like pollution
from the refinery next door
where weeds, glass, crack vials, HIV, screams in the middle of the night and thugs grow and become all tangled in our sleep.
Writings by Esteban A. Martinez, poetry, fiction, rants, speculation and whatever else we want to call writing
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Where are you? by esteban a martinez
you will never hear my words brute tongue did not mean what it said i did not say that i am not good with words you will never hea...
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Maxine crushes cookies into crumbs for pie crust, stares at the green station wagon through her kitchen window; cries. The car -- with crack...
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After I walked out of my bathroom, I noticed my double sitting in the living-room chair I usually occupy. I walked to my kitchen, adjacent t...
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Wind Chapter One 2 days since christmas. listen to me good. the horse had giant nostrils shooting steam in t...
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