Best Fugue Poems

an orchestrated night glitters 
to the wand wave of the maestro unborn
sweetness licks on liquorice sticks 
fingered on silver keys

the moon melts like a honey drop
as sopranos sing

in harmony the coyote calls
base notes cajoled by passing horns
meld as cicada rub the reeds
legging each sharped phrase
with intonations of delight...

Continue reading...

Some have passion and
Dreams in their hearts
That weave in and out
Beyond the edges
Of small places
Their dreams may be only words to some
But to them they mean everything.

And others, 
Just as young,
Run off 
With no plans
No ideas
And never a second thought.

The dreamers and the aimless
Eventually meet 
In the East Village
Center of the counterculture in New York
Birthplace...

Continue reading...

Light crashes sounds like brittle glass 
Slashes shards across my worn aching eyes 
The colors reak of deep rot like blues 
Creeping green burning acidic sounds
In my ears like the Smell of some dead deity 

The tang of the streets are bright
gay they clash with the screaming 
red halls of my inner cell walls 
the...

Continue reading...

Tucked in the gray mob, safe, sound and asleep.
An eternity of time never marked.
Dimly recalled eon of forest deep.
When all else is still, the whispered voice, “Hark!”

Restlessness dances between heart and mind,
Throat clenches tightly as the yearning wells.
Stolen window glance from my place in line,
But nose to grindstone, now, duty compels.

Yet yearnings boil blood in...

Continue reading...

pound and flaten one large turkey breast 
place 12 slices of cottage bacon inside

in a bowl add
1 cup of feta cheese
1/2 teaspoon of cumin
1/4 nutmeg
1 cup of spinach (Strained and chopped)
1 tablespoon of garlic
3 Tablespoons of dehydrated onion
1/4 cup of cooked bacon
One tablespoon of cayenne pepper
1 tablespoon of lemon zest
1 teaspoon of mace
2 tablespoon of...

Continue reading...

Epochal courses a tamed countryside,
Spectacle sparkles glowing trees and boughs,
Pedestal weights and measures counter slide,
Sensible enshrine flexible reigned bows.

A sentinel taps chords and ivories,
The typical lose blues and notes the muse,
The miracle resonates mute carries,
A mythical being awaits its dues.

As Bach spirited his classical piece,
Some brought heart and soul, yet their ears came first,
Has God...

Continue reading...

I’m no one   so
I held him 
I kissed him
I killed him   now 
I have no place to go 
except 
the space between spaces
the consolation of seeing the colors
he stumbled over colors....

Continue reading...

Long
lost
daydreams-
forgotten
flights of fancy...

Continue reading...

Todesfugue ("Death Fugue")
by Paul Celan
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Black milk of daybreak, we drink you come dusk;
we drink you come midday, come morning, come night;
we drink you and drink you.
We’re digging a grave like a hole in the sky;
there’s sufficient room to lie there.
The man of the house plays with vipers; he writes
in the...

Continue reading...

Thinking about us
I come undone
Looking back I don’t know
Whether we lost or won

Voices in my mind
That I just can’t translate
But I know
I’ll learn to appreciate 

I’m not laying blame
I’m not keeping score
I just wish I could find 
Who I was before

All was taken
And more was lost
A dissociative fugue 
Cost us the lot

What am I supposed...

Continue reading...

JUXTAPOSITION 1
Prelude for a Dying Loved One
Faces stricken,
painted in grief, 
peer through the glass barrier
into the room,
as ventilators is removed
from a loved one, and
last breaths are expelled.
Mother Earth awaits,
her arms opens to embrace
and cradle her child.

Fugue for a Newborn Infant
Faces, wonderstruck,
painted with excitement,
peer through the doorway,
into the birthing room
as a newborn infant is 
laid in...

Continue reading...

At the deep end of night
when all that can be seen is the digital clock
and the light under the corridor door,
we slip out of our personas -
a fumbled attempt at drowsy love-play;
the plethora of giant pillows
hiding us from ourselves.

The hotel elevator takes us further
into a story we have already written.
Day 3 blurs, sight-seeing
pictures long poured
from...

Continue reading...

A contrapuntal harmony made from pure
singing mathematical light.
The music cannot be denied,
it flows on like a silk dragon
over rolling savanna.
The hairs in my ears begin to dance,
the notes are calling out prismatic stars,
not the ones we see
but suns born in the shadowy cells 
of our own fallen angels....

Continue reading...

Collated papers filed and the bills paid
as the kettle whistled invitingly.  
My son’s laughter drifting in through the window—
I have forgotten to close the billowing drapes. 
A sempiteral tableau. 

An ephemeral scene crowds in:
The loud curtains tucking at my memory;
my son’s voice trapped in distress.  
The kettle whimpered as it boiled dry— 
old...

Continue reading...

The music cannot be denied,
it unwinds like an articulated dragon
through a metallically ringing void.
Then there is the silk serpent
hidden in the driving engine
the closed-eyed coiling.

The hairs in my ears dance;
the notes are calling out stars;
not the ones we see,
but dark stars
born in the disheveled rooms
of fallen angels....

Continue reading...