Long Edges Poems

When you came to me...

Not that you wanted me.  Oh, no!  It was I who wanted you,
Your comfort... your caring... your
... compassion, your compassion...
Your body, beautiful and young, perhaps that as well at...

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The First Valentine Poem

Charles d’Orleans (1394-1465) has been credited with writing the first Valentine poem for his wife in 1415. Charles wrote the first Valentine poem in the first year of his captivity while being...

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It had been a hellish week.

On Monday
my lonely and tired AfricanAmerican husband
told me, as gently as possible,
that what I had hoped was a temporary separation
is to be extended into perpetuity.

This separation had been scheduled to...

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Let Me Give Her Diamonds
by Michael R. Burch

Let me give her diamonds
for my heart's
sharp edges.

Let me give her roses
for my soul's
thorn.

Let me give her solace
for my words
of treason.

Let the flowering of love
outlast a winter
season.

Let me...

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Those who get,
get more widely.
Those who want,
want more deeply.

Normal slow-grown inter-religiously co-invested evolution 
is not survival of the wealthiest and strongest species,
but thrival of the deepest win/win fit 
with least panentheistic disruption required
within,
whether we speak...

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Come Down
by Michael R. Burch

for Harold Bloom

Come down, O, come down
from your high mountain tower.
How coldly the wind blows,
how late this chill hour ...

and I cannot wait
for a meteor shower
to show you the time
must be...

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What Good Are Our Tears?
by Michael R. Burch

What good are our tears?
They will not spare the dying their anguish.
What good is our concern
to a child sick of living, waiting to perish?

What good, the warm benevolence...

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In Ayn Rand's "Atlas Shrugged"
she paints a nationalistically wealthy saint
where also lives a monochromatically utilitarian narcissist,
sucking on attachment to fame and power
for bought and sold ZeroSum accounting Souls.

If the perfectly powerful pure patriarchal patriot
were your...

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If ever a moment in real life deserved a romantic, melancholy
backing track, it would have been that one ... we'd spent the
entire afternoon at Ferry Beach, sunning and playing frisbee, I
playing guitar, she practicing her...

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The weight of the water is heavy in my chest, a force pressing against the ribs. It rises when I don’t expect it, like a flood breaking through cracked, neglected seams. The truck of my...

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My eyes stare straight,
fixated on something in the distance, 
humming a song that would send chills,
if you ever got the chance to listen.

A padded cell and a straitjacket,
the doctor giving one of his ‘visits,’
his moans...

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Because the charity of my native place
Obliged me, the broken branches I the picked up
Them giving back him, who was to debase.

Then we finally reached where had to leap
From the second turn to third, and...

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He just appeared to me, like wispily curling 
Chimney smoke, 
One grim and early morning in the very midst of 
Decembers briefest days, on the highest slope,
Toiling through my daily round; where, slowly 
Driving up...

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Nowhere Man

Star dust, the stuff of a fool’s dreams.
Oh !!!, to travel upon star dust streams
- that glorious, never ending journey -
into the realms, the space of many.

This old spirit, seems, not to fit into...

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The photograph that Tim had shown me a few hours earlier certainly did not do it justice.
From what I could see it was a large triangular shape on three legs which were all at a...

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Chinese Poets: English Translations

These are modern English translations of poems by some of the greatest Chinese poets of all time, including Du Fu, Huang O, Li Bai, Li Ching-jau, Li Qingzhao, Po Chu-I, Tzu Yeh,...

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'Continental Drift' - The Metaphor

In the seventies (1), few people dreamed ‘it’ was true,
guessed by scientists first when rough coastlines compared (2)
matched like parts of a puzzle (a jigsaw), found place
that joined ‘drop-offs’ waves hid...

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I. Sighting

I saw you  
through refracted light-  
a prism of chance  
splitting ordinary into spectrum.  
Wind-tangled hair  
terra cotta and rosemary beneath your nails  
the scent of soil and...

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Continued from
‘CATONITA STRIKES - PART ONE’
A Freezer Mice adventure


When no-one was around they did the finger-clicking thing
And grew to human size in time for what the day might bring
Their guns were charged and ready and...

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“The Scorpion’s Touch”

Under glass
the sound cuts out sharp
just like under water
and we run out of breath 
like insects running around 
frantically out of time
we are magnified 
in our tight enclosures

internally observed
the external turns away
two heart...

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The Call

For as long as I can remember, I have been phoning my mom. Even before leaving home when I was a teenager. Whenever I had good or bad news, it was just natural for...

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The Game of Hockey 

By Government decree, lacrosse
Is Canada’s national sport,
But in the hearts and minds of Canadians,
Hockey rules supreme.
Hockey is a winter sport enjoyed by Canadians since 1875,
When the game was first played, on...

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My TransITion began there
right there
in my woodland playground,
when I first knew
something right feels wrong to others.

I was blind to curve-balls
hurled at me.
Being "It" is not why I grow
this TransIt mind and body!

Or, is it?

Could I...

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I suppose
cannibalism
is the logical conclusion
of rabidly overpopulated fascism.

Some cannibals,
perhaps all,
ate their human prey
not for typical nutritional reasons
like other forms of digested nature,
but more specifically
because those dining
hoped their prey's sacred powers
would thereby become their own,
conjoining for...

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"FALL"



I wrap
my Autumn world
around you

Calliope turning
raising the 
season’s poetry, 

I am she
returning 

dancing 
with Summer’s 
dying leaves 

Twirling you up into 
my warm golden brown 
symphony

hear me sing, 
whispering notes,
holding keys 

towards you 
you're approachable
reaching...

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