Long Half(a) Poems

How unparticular the day had particularly been,
On March the third of two-thousand and eighteen,
For the caretaker at an historic Adirondack Inn,
Had lacked company, and therefore, dopamine.

 ‘Twas Sunday when all the guests had fled,
From either...

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Once,
or twice, 
maybe thrice,
surely not
not fractal

A clan of crazy ecofeminists
conspired within an 88 unit residential castle
in their historically converted 
sometimes hysterically clueless condo
colonial-red predative brick 
badly bald aging building

With a sometimes soggy south walled school,
but...

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It’s heading for our planet at ten thousand miles an hour
To stop it all the experts say we haven’t got the power
All the nukes in all the world won’t constitute a plan
So someone said, ‘All...

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My protagonist today,
a Gay Black Religious Mature Male,
not quite ready for silver-grey Obama temples

Is off this morning
to a new full-time job,
8 to 5,
Monday through Friday.

He has been out of his calming,
regular custodial collared routine,
for over...

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Juvenilia: Early Poems XI

Myth
by Michael R. Burch

after the sprung rhythm of Dylan Thomas

Here the recalcitrant wind
sighs with grievance and remorse
over fields of wayward gorse
and thistle-throttled lanes.

And she is the myth of the scythed wheat
hewn and...

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Radiance
by Michael R. Burch

for Dylan Thomas

The poet delves earth’s detritus—hard toil—
for raw-edged nouns, barbed verbs, vowels’ lush bouquet;
each syllable his pen excretes—dense soil,
dark images impacted, rooted clay.

The poet sees the sea but feels its meaning—
the...

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10 o'clock am the morning 
Quest: A country side bike ride.
Molly woke Dolly and Damian.
Woke Everyone on that July 
Morning of 2038. They had a Bicycle 
Expedition to tend to plus a newly
Minted swimming pool...

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Damian Stood in the morning sun.
The sun felt good on his face.
Delilah was still sleeping. He
Kissed her face and caressed 
Her belly until she awoke.
Hey my Mrs. Me. Come on babe.
We will be leaving today...

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These are poems about Dylan Thomas, as well as poems "for" and "after" Dylan Thomas. Dylan Thomas was one of my favorite poets from my early teens and has remained so over the years. I...

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Once upon a weedy lawn
At Cedar Oaks Retirement Home
There sat my mother, weak and old
On an afghan knit to block the cold.

It was summer, but in mom's grey eyes
Was winter, when all around us dies.
I...

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Myth, after Dylan Thomas
by Michael R. Burch

Here the recalcitrant wind
sighs with grievance and remorse
over fields of wayward gorse
and thistle-throttled lanes.

And she is the myth of the scythed wheat
hewn and sighing, complete,
waiting, lain in a low...

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Harriet Harris, née Kuritsky gave up the ghost...

~ May fourth, 2005
wedded bliss nearly fifty years
half a century almost
me not most favorite grown offspring,
she (when alive) did boast,
about youngest sister and her family,
unlike me – severely...

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Poems about Children II



On Looking into Curious George’s Mirrors
by Michael R. Burch

for Maya McManmon, granddaughter of the poet Jim McManmon

Maya was made in the image of God;
may the reflections she sees in those curious mirrors
always...

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Date: December 2040

Damian is on the phone speaking 
With architects.  He made
Airline and hotel reservations.
 Soon Afterwards he went 
To Molly and caressed her away from
From a sweet dream. "Hey, baby girl."
He sat on...

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A society
culture
religion
humane species
forgetting,
or more likely under-valuing,
how to unitedly suffer loss
may never have learned to face our universal fear 
of dissociative ego-death
as a badge of Earth-systemic re-cognition,
dignity through suffering 
sacred Ego's over-capitalized absence
where once we knew...

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The Story
by Kamal Nasser
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

I will tell you a story ...
a story that lived in the dreams of my people,
a story that comes from the world of tents.
It is a story...

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The Philistine troops gathered up for war,
Between Azekah and Socoh amassed.
Israel encamped near in Elah vale
And drew a line against the number vast.
There Saul, upon one mountain, made a stand,
To face the other tribe across...

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A funny frog called Mr Snog,
once lived beside a slimy bog,
he was a most peculiar fellow,
his hat was red, his boots were yellow,
his waistcoat was an olive green,
the strangest sight you’ve ever seen,
no matter where...

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Harriet Harris née Kuritsky...

Despite being a nineteen year old bride
she wed Boyce Brandon Harris
half a decade her senior,
(where I ranked less than a twinkle in their eyes)
during the month of June 1955, 
not quite half...

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He always brought the subject up at the most inappropriate time, usually when someone was trying to kill us.

Are you a believer now?

If I get out of this, I’ll think about it. We got out...

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Final Lullaby
by Michael R. Burch

for my mother, Christine Ena Burch

Sleep peacefully—for now your suffering’s over.

Sleep peacefully—immune to all distress,
like pebbles unaware of raging waves.

Sleep peacefully—like fields of fragrant clover
unmoved by any motion of the wind.

Sleep...

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Once again it’s Saturday; the day when footy reigns supreme.
The Dogs are up against the Cats, the premier favoured team,
but I’ve got no doubts the mighty Dogs will surely cope with that.
I couldn’t think of...

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He always brought the subject up at the most inappropriate of times, usually when some c**t was trying to kill us.
Are you a believer now?
If I get out of this, I’ll think about it. We...

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You know when I think about it now and what I have to do,
a lot of you folk out there would have a bit of envy too;
you see I'm a 'lacky' for a vet, well...

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WITHIN THE BRIGHTEST NIGHT (Part 01)

”Life?”

"Are you thinking what I think?" she said, nonchalantly. 
”Is this not the place for it, Young Light?”
"My young light." said I.
"Let's go in, then, Young Light." She had other...

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