Michael L. Martin
Bio
Born in Michigan, raised in New Hampshire, and residing in Arizona. 2007 Graduate of the University of Arizona (English and Creative Writing). 2001 and 2005 Hearst Prize for Poetry Winner. Brand new Dad.
Stories (8/0)
Prisoners Pray Twice at Night
Tell me what you think of pink in the summer- the stink of wet lumber drying in the cold sun and crackling like its grains are trying to run south. My mouth is dry and my tongue has been scraped of the taste. I hate to think that any part of my life was a waste. You always hated when I told you stories of green monsters in late October. You always hoped your father would come home sober. Five Fridays a month he wished he'd had a son but, “what's done is done,” he always said. In his head he thought you were as good as dead. Red was your color then- anger, shame, embarrassment. Love- not even sometimes. Until I showed you how a sunrise can turn the sky tie-dyed and tired eyes see things differently.
By Michael L. Martin4 years ago in Humans
What the World is Made of
For the Vocal challenge, “2020 Anthem,” I chose the song, “Anthem,” by Greta Van Fleet. Not only due to its seamlessly fitting song title but because it truly fills my soul with hope, my heart with love, and my mind with peace. “Where is the music? / A tune to free the soul.”
By Michael L. Martin4 years ago in Beat
Green Screen Rehearsal
Was I crazy to think that with a wink you could take me back to the place I used to dream of monsters wearing green. You said you had seen it before sometime in the summer of ‘04. Being scared silly and acting slap happy as Big Papi sent one screaming out of the park. Fenway at dusk is something everyone must see. If I come clean and tell you what I fear the most will you still sleep with my ghosts?
By Michael L. Martin4 years ago in Poets
Confessions of a Baseball Fan
2007 American League Championship Series Game 6. Red Sox are down three games to two in the series to the Cleveland Indians. I’m talking shit about J.D. Drew the whole way down route 93 from Colebrook, N.H. to Boston, Mass. He hadn’t been hitting well and I think I have the answer. “Move Ellsbury over and put CoCo in; J.D.’s done- he’s a bum. Schilling’s on the mound and he’s a ground ball pitcher. We’ll be ok. We don’t need Drew’s glove in the outfield tonight.”
By Michael L. Martin4 years ago in Unbalanced
