Long Spines Poems

Medieval Poems IV



IN LIBRARIOS
by Thomas Campion
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Booksellers laud authors for novel editions
as pimps praise their whores for exotic positions.



Brut (circa 1100 AD, written by Layamon, an excerpt)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R....

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Goodness, I nearly lost my balance on the spiral seashells and broken sea stone chipping matrix.
My quaint obsession with marine life and that skyline paradox blossoming so tantalisingly,  might be a source of some...

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The Gospel according to The Bluesman
Gianni watched the clouds move in
Closed his window for the rain
It was spring and that meant
That it was gonna storm again

He looked out at the street outside
He saw a man...

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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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"The Unlit Flame at Blue Feather’s Cross Roads"



Words these days are seldom Red
like drops of lifeless blood falling cold on a hot frying pan,
sentences are scattered, stuck in Go Nowhereland,
semi-solid, immovable coagulating gelatinous, turning dark...

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"Skinwalker"


That one’s mind 
is like a scene from Chagall
dreams flow like blood bleeds
across the cortex page curtain call
an audience with the silent speakeasy 
cerebellum with its swift
matter-of-factness 
logically guides the fingers 
to dance across keys...

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~writer's notes~

i think out loud
from my fingers to a keyboard 
so forgive me if my speak
is somewhat long winded
if it has swirls and curls
this is me
hopefully you want to hear
my voice in its totality

~the prologue~

just...

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In glamor-light of sunset
a new crowd of cumulus clouds arrive
and revive a sepia sky-scene—
unworldly woolgatherers gather
spinning fantasy fluff into quixotic yarns
of debutantes dancing with honeymoon hunger;
their dewy eyes blurred by the sawdust of stardust

pseudo-princess-pleasure-seekers
—drama daring...

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Through Their Eyes

The Poetry Murders Part 3 in the series

Murder She Wrote

It was a dark night with a full moon
The alley narrow, my hopes high
My footsteps echoed in the ears of the invisible
I quicken my...

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WOMB OF ALL BEGINNINGS


In the delicious womb of all beginnings 
we learnt to giggle electrons
to bear all things 
without nusturtiums, pink lilies or doughnuts 
warm gurglings of God’s dream for us

Morning glories were waiting 
deep...

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........Cactus
....Water Towers
Isolated desolates
Wrapped in spikes
Fluted aqua Greys
Or in military green
Reaching the skies
The desolate cacti 
The desert fingers 
Withholding blaze..
Desicating breeze..........
.Blistering freeze..................
Where not a blade....................
Nothin' germinate......................
Them root in dust.....................
Wasteland, gravel.....................
The fluted barrels......................
They shrink in dry......................
Bellow up...

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The morning sun filters through dust-laden windows of the district education office like an unwelcome truth trying to penetrate wilful ignorance. Shelves buckle under the weight of untouched research journals like abandoned promises, their spines...

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Into the woods we ventured, where darkness began to encircle us,
Their ancient murmurs mingling with the forest’s ominous chorus.
A chilling breeze, as if the very breath of the woods sighed,
Veiled in tempestuous clouds, the stars...

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Cockroaches are generalized insects with few special adaptations. Most are the size of a thumbnail, but they can be as big as 3.8 inches and weigh 30 grams. Their largest wingspan is 7.3 in. They are...

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GROGGY BEDHEAD NO COFFEE SHUT THE BLINDS .... PRESIDENTIAL NO GOOD CHOICES TELIVISION SIGNAL GLITCH SMEAR ART CAMPAIGN... LATE NIGHT REHEATED RERUN RETWEEKED RETWEETED MORNING NEWS?....
MORE RAIN TOO HOT BROKEN LEFT WINDSHIELD WIPER.... SAME OLD...

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You bite that apple!
Give it a go, put on a show
There is no shame
You said shame is a sham
And clams are happy
Do they hop or skip?
Tripping along the seafloor
Playing hopscotch
Eating numbers like cookies
Chips Ahoy!
Sleeve after...

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Migrants on the move from violence
their only possession
breath-space on a smuggler’s boat
secured with back-bent harvests 
in pretzel-bent systems
weight of crates of strawberries 
hoisted on hell-bent backs
just trying to reach Spanish-shores’-east 
from Moroccan beach with a...

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 “looking back, I’m ashamed of what I was
I’m different now, though not without flaws
Each crest becomes a trough, as we move on
God slowly steers soul towards a new dawn” Unseeking Seeker 

Life is like...

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He wears thick gloves when he strings the barbed wire,
fashioning a thorny fence from prickly metal spines,
reminding me that cattle like to know the boundaries,
the edges of a pasture, clever green grass hesitating
on the borders...

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His thick-soled hiking shoes
tread too loudly
to celebrate time's homing invitation
to hear and see, 
feel and smell resonantly hidden diversity
within Spirit's wooded ridge.

He stops to break from sacrilegious pounding
plodding echoes
reverberating through ears attuned for inside voices,
languaged...

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He stood as he braced himself for the greatest battle he`ll ever known
His entire life`s existence an accolade towards this very moment, this last battle of the gods
His breath slow and measured, steadying himself for...

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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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Encomium for cumulative collection of trash

The pyromaniac within yours truly
beckons sacrificial ritual
mine burning (man's)
sacred plastic bags
of rubbish (comprised of: hairs combed,
ditto trimmed from dead head,
filthy lucre - ha, phlegm
wrapped in tissue paper,
snips and snails,
and puppy...

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I miss the nuances of daily life
while weeks are frozen in this quarantine.
I miss the lost normalcy of my days
in all aspects, obvious and unseen.
I miss turning my head to read the spines
of the novels...

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2/4/23


No ifs ands or maybes
Daily
I'm seeing hatred
People still extremely racist
Meanwhile food and materials being wasted

I understand the messages these mummies meant
Continually money spent
Making matters worse, followed by a bloody event

Too often the crooked win
Always greedy...

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