Hustle

Hustle

<div><p>"David Martinez is like an algebra problem invented by America—he's polynomial, and fractioned, full of identity variables and unsolved narrative coefficients. . . . <I>Hustle</I> is full of dashing nerve, linguistic flair, and unfakeable heart."—Tony Hoagland</P><I><p>The dark peoples with things:</P><p>for keys, coins, pencils<br />and pens our pockets grieve.</P><p>No street lights or signs,<br />no liquor stores or bars,<br />only a lighter for a flashlight,</P><p>and the same-faced trees,<br />similar-armed stones<br />and crooked bushes<br />staring back at me.</P><p>There is no path in the woods for a boy from the city.</P><p>I would have set fire to get off this wilderness<br />but Palomar is no El Camino in an empty lot,</P><p>the plastic dripping from the dash<br />and the paint bubbling like a toad's throat.</P><p>If mountains were old pieces of furniture,<br />I would have lit the fabric and danced.</P><p>If mountains were abandoned crack houses,<br />I would have opened their meanings with flame,</P><p>if that would have let the wind and trees lead my eyes<br />or shown me the moon's tiptoe on the moss—</P><p>as you effect my hand,<br />as we walk into the side of a Sunday night. </I><p><B>David Tomas Martinez</B> has published in <I>San Diego Writer's Ink</I>, <I>Charlotte Journal</I>, <I>Poetry International</I>, and has been featured in <I>Border Voices</I>. A PhD candidate at the University of Houston, Martinez is also an editor for <I>Gulf Coast</I>.<BR></div>