Long Carve up Poems

They were gambling in front of the house.
Manservants and pages bustled about
Serving Suitors who just curse and carouse.
Few mix wine with water. I heard one shout,
"Clean down the tables with wet sponges! Rouse
Yourselves! And when...

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Ah yeah ah oh
Ah yeah ah oh
So scared and fragile...
So weak for only awhile...
Unfaithful me is as cold as glaciers of disgrace glamorized 
Unfaithful you is as hot as fire of desire, burning...you and I...

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With this needle and thread I stitch the wounds Avril left
but with this blade I angrily carve a new
rough, short, jagged adjacent from the bone in my wrist
for a reflection of our relationship
and an outlet...

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Lumi smiled and reached out to grab his shoulder.  They passed over the ridge where, as Joulupukki had said, a small hamlet clung to the side of the mountain about equal distance to the...

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I used to slit my arms open like I was peeling fruit—careful, slow, watching the skin give way like wet paper. The box cutter blade was dull, sticky from God knows what—maybe dried glue, maybe...

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They pursued it with vigor, they pursued it with crass
They hunted with valor and hope
They proceeded with a dose of good Knightly sass
They chased it with tackle and rope

Now King Arthur declared in a boisterous...

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Tell me, my friend,  
does infinity not unsettle your reason,  
or is it a comfort—to believe it meaningless?  

Look beyond the rust of your disbelief—  
this isn’t the frostbitten dogma you...

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Prelude to what…..

I see you,  /  you / yes, come into my…… 
laboratory of alchemist mystical languaging.
where arsenic spills into the whirlpool of thought 
and savage syntax shatter like glass on concrete.

Where Titans...

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We are the days that we’ve become. 
moments dripping gifted from
the lounging clocks in rolling melted sightings, 
given by the gifted madness of a soulmate’s fightings. 

Our lives wrapped up in phrases coined
in books like,...

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MICHELANGELO: Modern English Translations

Michelangelo Buonarroti (1475-1564) is considered by many experts to be the greatest artist and sculptor of all time. These are modern English translations of his poems and epigrams by Michael R. Burch.



SONNET:...

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Soliloquio del Individuo by Nicanor Parra, Translated by T. Wignesan


(Homage to Nicanor PARRA, 1914-2018, the Chilean ANTI-POET, winner of the "Cervantes Prize" (the highest literary honour for writers in Spanish), four times nominated for the...

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In my chambers where phantasmagoria undulate
    not as vigilant watchers but as mnemonic parasites
    I ruminate—
        no longer a singular entity but...

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Washed ashore on the lost island

Skin already peeling on the beach

Burning from the hot green summer sun

Meat melting off to become bone

Jumping back into the water

Cooling off with the clams and fish 

Washing the sand...

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Hello world
Hello universe
Today I apologize
today I apologize to you
today I apologize
for giving you my worst
for performing below my best
for making empty promises I can't keep 
and for banishing people from my life
out of anger, out...

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Her cognition is sporadic
Longing for her to relax
And display calm tactics
Lay on my chest like it’s a hammock
When she isn't calm
I can't stand it
Cause behaviors like these in women
Can easily become habits
It won't happen to...

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I am just a nobody with no fortune and no fame,
But rich in ways many others wouldn't ever think to claim.
Among His many blessings, I'm blessed with a Gift to create,
To share with and touch...

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I have faith in brighter days like these
And have hope in kinder ways of speech please
I have no doubt in this mind…
I don’t want to be left behind
Collect my tears of endless sorrow
Hopefully, there’s another...

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{"This heavy humanness she burdened inside, 
Sent electrical shocks through her body, 
she would weep silently with a fist pressed up against her maw with her eyes evidently glistening nobody would attempt to console her...

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My sweet mother of pearl struck a ruby eyed reef. 
Then quickly sank into the deep, just shy of the cay of life. 
Don't remember much about her,
Daddy never had much to say... about the...

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All the moments that have led to now
play out—
projected onto the insides of my eyelids,
a film I’ve watched a thousand times.

And still,
it shakes me to my core.

Visions of the ineffable,
with impossible implications.

I wander through a...

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In realms where thought and tempests meet
where shifting sands outpace the feet
a creature stirs with cunning guise
Circumlocution cloaked in darkened skies
its words like desert viper’s sting
they strike the heart then coil and cling.

Through jungles thick...

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I'm sorry, I just can't do this
Wait why apologize, I'm not sorry
I can't go through with it anymore
holding my tongue
This isn't fair; IT'S NOT FAIR
My hand is close to broken
strong arm broken, seven piles of...

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I. The Pastor’s Hand

At dawn’s brittle cusp—
  he climbs, each step
    a nail in time’s coffin
  breath ragged
    a Psalm torn mid-hymn.

The rope tastes of incense and...

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My mirror breaks, I pick up a shard,

But find it bizarre that all I see is nothing but scars, 

My veins filled with black tar, shaking, beaten and starved,

I carve your name to my arm,...

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{Your death would be my own

{"I barricaded my heart,
After your death, So that nobody could strip away and clutch at the light,
That was left over after you deliberately left me,
Shattered into the pieces nobody,
Could pick...

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