There is a tickle brushing cells downstream; gist of a fickle throat. Chide me not it is not vanity; my words, my words let me hide. Shady is the song of mime; silence warbles at a fate no longer sure. Songs that need no words, refuge of inner ear, not the world of kings. MustContinue reading “Mind fog”
Author Archives: Anne Birkam
The gentle earth is hidden
The gentle earth is hidden when neurons run around; the junco and the goldfinch have disputed Niger’s perch; no hunger is abated when instinct makes a push, and then the Cheshire smile awaiting brings paw to claw and so we watch as dirt meets bone alas, forever more. The cats who owned me stayed insideContinue reading “The gentle earth is hidden”
A never ebbing sea
He waits upon an empty bench- the man who does not see. He calls in toneless syllables- the man who will not hear. He shudders at the changing youth- the man who cannot learn. He leaves the fair before it begins- the man who will not try. What of these men who live yet die?Continue reading “A never ebbing sea”
Loons
This Michigan migrant sets up house in the most remote of places – no longer common in the land of a developer’s dream. A pair will stake their territory, warding off interlopers with yodels and tremolos. The eerie call of nature is necessary if they are to ensure enough food and security for the youngContinue reading “Loons”
Reflections of the optimist
The optimist in me aspires to forgetting my doctor’s name, with the words that I remember repeat on end and are the same from Monday through Saturday, and Sunday comes and goes with no difference in my mind. Year begetting year each day will be the same as the day before. Never-ending repetition will whisperContinue reading “Reflections of the optimist”
The poet ponders
I keep looking for the switch that will turn the dark to light, a desperate flight of common sense has left me desolate. You kneel in silence, and I will kneel in prayer – let racism jet off somewhere else. Perhaps to a mountain’s cliff, icy and cold where it will shiver and fold likeContinue reading “The poet ponders”
Two children
There was a child hair of golden sun, eyes with the crystals of the deep dark sea, whose face rose to all that is new. This child lived to smile. There was a child with skin of glass, empty of stomach, swollen of cheek and flesh- routine marked by want. This child lived to die.Continue reading “Two children”
Little ditty
The unbridled capitalist sits upon his horse named Scam, while millions go without, Hippocrates be damned. He stokes his ego and he sips the air, the deaths he sows aren’t his affair. The Black Marias haul the peons away, The ship of state rams into the cay of liberty. 9/5/2017
Requiem redux
At the steps of Washington they stood- the people. I was with them, nothing but a marionette life in this sweet land. Instead of a preface Can you describe this? Yes I can* If in the distant future this aunt still resides in the mitten shaped from ice – if she is still here andContinue reading “Requiem redux”
Vision
The house without windows sits on a hill surrounded by meadows, flowers near the door. It is surrounded in the shade of summer. Black smog puffs from its nose. Perspiration is released from its gutters. This house lives in solitude. This house has a latch on its door. Someday the wind will blow the latchContinue reading “Vision”
Anne's mediocre poetry 