Girl Prison Poems

There was this guy, see, 
a high-flyer type, 
made a bit of a name for himself. 
He moved in like a year before, you know,...

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(Lights dim, a single spotlight illuminates Judy Garland, center stage. She wears a faded housecoat, her eyes holding a lifetime of stories. She speaks directly...

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In the visiting room evening's ebony is shellacking everything.
He sits across from me at the sable-shaded table, in shades,
pours black coffee pungent as the Gauloises...

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after Ho Chi Minh

I
The stone basin holds
still water. The still water

drinks the arid sponge
as rays of pure energy

slake their thirst on
the ebon wings of crows

II
Yangtze...

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Locked in a cage, all by herself
She keeps screaming out for help
As loudly as she can
But the key is in her hands
 
People walk by,...

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Straddling Town boundary, brick spawl
Hill vista stabled horse sanctity five acres
Dishes decades of rural dream enthrall
Imprisons middle aged, once a girl elated

Saddle, bridle, hay bales,...

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As a young girl, my innocence was
taken away from me.
I was defiled by someone who was
supposed to love me.
It went on for years until I...

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20 minutes
that is 120 weeks in prison
2 years, 3 months, 2 weeks and 
20 minutes to get locked up

20 minutes to fingerprint you
20 minutes to...

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My neighbor, who has sticky fingers,
lifts merchandise fast, never lingers.
Inside her big jacket
each item, she'll pack it--
fine necklaces, rings, even Zingers!

Her P O saw her...

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I’ve gotten so far ahead in this world
By taking the easy way out and slinging drugs.
I don’t take care of my little boy and girl
Because,...

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Who am I? I really don't know who my real self is, I have been locked up inside of myself with no way of escaping...

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Tuning William Blake's Whistle
by Michael R. Burch

a musical prophecy, after William Blake

I.

Many a sun
and many a moon
I walked the earth
and whistled a tune.

I did not...

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The Panther
by Rainer Maria Rilke
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

His weary vision's so overwhelmed by iron bars,
his exhausted eyes see only blank Oblivion.
His world is...

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Let me tell you what losers are,
Losers are the guys with no style
Who do things wrong
And guys who cry for the wrong girl
Guys who want...

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Dedicated to a fine poet on soup, Lin Lane
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I shook hands with my brother and bade him farewell
Then set off on my journey away from...

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