Chris Martin Poetry

The non-narrative style of Martin's poetry leads to a voice that seems to have been long forgotten.  It's a voice in the back of the head not unlike the conscience.  It travels around the head, creating a halo effect and finally the voice meets at the front with the other half of the voice, an echo effect.  His poetry reminds me of introductions to movies where the filmmakers put the middle of the movie in the beginning.  Not so much the story of it that makes you want to watch on but the imagery of it how one is confused at first and then everything unravels.
This kind of poetry is one of my favorites; there's always a quality of mystery and fog-like confusion that makes the sound and imagery muddles but crisper and clearer as I read on.  An example of this would be his poem "The Throat."  Martin first writes about the bird calls: "If harkening a bird for its throat we hear you," (Martin 1-4.)  IN the end, the poem seems to try to bring out different qualities in the throat and the memories it brings.  The poem goes on to talk about Martin in a first person narrative but then alternates with a third person narrative and Martin writes about nature, history, and love. 

a crisp wind of red apples
opens the seam between our eyes
but this isn’t about about
it’s a noun flown verb
designed to hurt slowly
in a foraged ear
we go planting - See more at: http://www.pen.org/two-new-poems-chris-martin#sthash.lqdbHlfJ.dpuf

The imagery of the poem brings out a certain quality in himself that normally would be left latent in a writer.  It brings out the best of him and yet brings out qualities in the object that he writes about.  He writes in "The Bones", "These birds crowding the eave to rouse sun back its plausible ire," (Martin 2-4.)  Both poems, "The Bones" and "The Throat", have a similar non-narrative, broken down structure of putting emphasis on each image, creating a clear canvas of the artistic impression of each line, each stanza, and the poem itself, making it stand out from the rest of the poems.

a crisp wind of red apples
opens the seam between our eyes
but this isn’t about about
it’s a noun flown verb
designed to hurt slowly
in a foraged ear
we go planting - See more at: http://www.pen.org/two-new-poems-chris-martin#sthash.lqdbHlfJ.dpuf

harkening
a bird
for its throat
we hear youIF

harkening
a bird
for its throat
we hear you