Long Huddle Poems

Currents
by Michael R. Burch

How can I write and not be true
to the rhythm that wells within?
How can the ocean not be blue,
not buck with the clapboard slap of tide,
the clockwork shock of wave on rock,
the...

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Vacuum
by Michael R. Burch

Over hushed quadrants
forever landlocked in snow,
time’s senseless winds blow...

leaving odd relics of lives half-revealed,
if still mostly concealed...
such are the things we are unable to know

that once intrigued us so.

Come then, let us...

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State of the Art (IV)

These are my "ars poetica" poems about the art and craft of writing poetry. 



Hearthside
by Michael R. Burch

“When you are old and grey and full of sleep...”  — W. ...

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Southern Icarus
by Michael R. Burch

Windborne, lover of heights,
unspooled from the truck’s wildly lurching embrace,
you climb, skittish kite...

What do you know of the world’s despair,
gliding in vast solitariness there,
so that all that remains is to
fall?

Only a...

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Mud and leather
dirt and nerve
bloodied laughter
collision to serve,
distance, drive and demolition
battle axe ambition in the wild air
muscle and mind joined in steeled instinct, 
a stitched pigskin ball, the grail of the Fall
to fumble it means...

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Rum was feeling playful so he went to find a mouse
He looked in every nook and cranny right throughout the house
But all the mice were sound asleep for it was dark outside
And then Rum saw...

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The Cold Doorknobs 

I.
I am sure there will be that profound moment in time
when the dog out back will stop its incessant yapping,
Its unrelenting impulse to belch out its interminable wails, 
alas, to inform its...

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A child lights our way in life...
The greatest gift there is to be.
They suppress our selfish inclinations...
They set our passions free.

They give sense to our mortality.
They put narcissism in its place.
With a child... you're a...

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Who am I? I am me, and me is having a little me time
No way!  Five days plus a weekend. 7 days, that’s mine.
It’s not fair. It’s a sin. It’s crazy. No, really honey,...

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Sipping in solitude inaudibly,
I feel left behind like an orphan child, 
Waiting for a stranger’s ride, 
I was left on the front steps of someone else’s house and I’m left to be
An introverted child, brokenhearted,...

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This is my last confession; there will be no more.

I am impercipient and slow from last night's sleeping pill,
wincing away from the harshness of day.
Kitchen cold, the room tear-splintered,
sunlight striking a watery rainbow in my...

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Who suggests a trip back...rides to this bit of nostalgia in the middle years of the Great Depression aboard a Chicago elevated train, "the El." We hurdle head-long above asphalt blanketed streets that are determined...

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ANIMOSITY VESSEL :

Here she sit at her thresholds corner;
Looks pity but craving to blow a vandal,
Crazely permitting no one to untie her shameful sandal,
Eagerly wish people swallowed by scandal.
Chameleon her pseudonym screamed from the huddle;
Many...

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My friend told me that she said that I was a pooh pooh butt.
Who told you?
My friend said that he was talking about my mama.
Your mama is wonderful.
Is it possible they were saying something good?
I...

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Prepared for the H.C.I.D. Protest
My paperwork is bad. I'm a lost cause. Help from this may never arise. My expectations are low.
Situations may differ from soul to soul.
Asking the kangaroo court, for help with their...

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“50 Words for Poe: Phantasmagoria”




“Darling, there’s someone here 
who would like to meet you...”

This was how it all began -

‘twas the night of the Ghost Ball
the room was pumping
and the Lothario put on a good...

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On January the 11th
We embarked on this beautiful journey
I trusted you with my heart
I knew you wouldn't hurt me
I glance at my left hand on my ring finger 
And the ring sings
Beautiful things
Your love and...

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Finally to Burn: Icarus, Resurrected
by Michael R. Burch

Athena takes me
sometimes by the hand

and we go levitating
through strange Dreamlands

where Apollo sleeps
in his dark forgetting

and Passion seems
like a wise bloodletting

and all I remember
upon awaking

is: to Love sometimes
is...

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Flings and wings and rings rejected…
 Cupid’s arrows fly deflected…
“It clearly is too late” she signed, “to love, adore or pay me mind”

Penciled lines drew cruel conclusions
mocking mirror’s cracked illusions…
Sometimes, in time, I hang awhile,...

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A spider spun a silver web 
in a mound of golden straw, 
Then he hid himself inside the stack, 
away from the wind so raw. 

He yelled down to the sheep below 
Who were trying...

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Mary, Jimmy, and Tommy had a garbage
can lid full of charcoal burning.
  They were Homeless but they had each
other.
  Mary was telling Jimmy how she managed
to get the free charcoal from the Sav-Mart.
...

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By Street Cries

The flesh is like feed me feed me when you follow this world that's when things get greeze
Flesh is like feed me feed me when you follow this world things get greeze

He grow...

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Lucky ones

Your pay is to break, to hurt, be bent and stink,
 the bank is your body, selling labor the means.

A wage is a a wave of dread 
	for the very dinner on your plate.
Again...

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"You walk away from this disaster unscathed, whilst I
stand next to the wincing tulips that battle Apollo's snapping frost.
Beneath the tweeting birds, unaware of the destruction below,
I stand still. Like a statue. In the spot...

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Southern Icarus
by Michael R. Burch

Windborne, lover of heights,
unspooled from the truck’s wildly lurching embrace
you climb, skittish kite ...

What do you know of the world’s despair,
gliding in vast solitariness there
so that all that remains is to

fall?

Only...

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