Long Librettos Poems

Now, unlike my usually trenchant literary librettos, i regale the unknown (tum me) reader for savoir faire articulation, elocution, and indomitable tour de force proffered by spectrum of bounteous expropriated hegemony rightful to Mother Nature....

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Vera Pavlova English Translations of Russian Poems

I shattered your heart;
now I limp through the shards
barefoot. 
—Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Winter? a beast.
Spring? a bud.
Summer? a bug.
Autumn? a bird. 
The rest of the...

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Bloody, bloody Ezra Pound
I never got my head around
his magnum opus: The Cantos
I’ve tried so hard but goodness knows
he didn’t intend it to be easy
for me or his mate Mussolini.

Perhaps obscurantism was his policy
or perhaps...

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THE ALL POWER IS GREATER!

The Big Bang designed the stratosphere and troposphere.
Below both majestic presence, Earth is the topography.
Today, all God’s creature roams freely.
Human being munificence is magnanimousness.

Now sits a child fulfilled.
She has her ink...

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"At the end of my life, with just one breath left, if you come then, I'll sit up and sing. That cannot now be said or written."  Rumi

Lyrics of loneliness liberate in a lucid...

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P o e t r y fills my heart 
with lyrical acrolect:
slowly swaying 
my fingers
   to outstanding octaves, 
through 
  ecstatic 
  liberated librettos, 
uplifting in a 
  medley of...

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Maestro – 4-23-24
Dedicated to Dr. Stanley Chapple.  Co-founder of Tanglewood. Conductor of the London Philharmonic.   Head of the Music School University of Washington.  Conductor of the University of Washington Symphony Orchestra....

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you release my quill from dried out surrender

          spell from a fountain of compassion and hope

          ...

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Follow the poet to the bottom
Their scrivened souls lead there
Electric verbs and climatic curves
Stoking notions of hoisted up hairs

Winding down the patchy canyon
To laurel beds on librettos grind
Waterfall nerves and augury spurs
Urging seshat to wield...

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The Language of Blue

Sinking into the lyrical language of blue
Prime layers of still solitude speak
 With muted voices
  In sapphire soprano rhapsodies,
Lines of bass blushes, electric flecks of neon fire.

Hear in dusky blue’s modal...

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Distant piano music,
or is it the speech of a banjo
unearthed from some attic prison?
Wait, do I hear a flügelhorn moaning, 
or is that a different conversation?

Brahms plucks at his peppery beard,
glissando and arpeggio flutter
into mountains...

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