There was a photographer –I read about him –who went to the wetlandsto photograph a bird,a red winged blackbirdearly enough in the morningto catch the bird’s breath And of course this is wherehe came – the edge of theworld, land foundering inthe notion of ownershipas if anything wildcan actually be owned But it is hereContinue reading “The Morass”
Author Archives: Anne Birkam
Christmas in Ecuador
Darwin thought he was uglyAmblyrhynchus cristatus*this agile swimmerwith a diet of algaebut oh how they light upnear each otherlike a tree in glorywith a star on topmating brings out thejewels they trulyare in this place wherethe two legged beastHomo sapiens thatbreeder of malevolencehas barely tried to live Seems water might benecessary after all –not optionalContinue reading “Christmas in Ecuador”
Cardinal rules
Listen closely andyou can hear himchip he goes chipchip a hard Cand then anothershe respondschip – chipcall and responsekeeps them safefrom sharp shinnedand Cooper’slisten closelythat is what it takesthe mewl of a catbirdquack of a mallarddifferent from awigeon almostwhistlingand the eagle’s sharphigh pitched screech. It is easy to getlost in the noisewhen verbosityinundates youhurts yourContinue reading “Cardinal rules”
careful friend
careful friendthey comefor you the noose – the gallowsknows no blueor redit only knowsobsequiousdeferred a bitand not on end tilt a little andwatch the windblow youout to seano wind cares thatyou can’t breathe saltor that flyingis not your thing and no my friendi won’t be hereto answer foryour faiththey will have sent mehelter skelterinto outerContinue reading “careful friend”
Cancel culture
We have done this likeforeverhaven’t we? When Anna’s cousin wasbeaten to death by Mrs. Hicksfor falling asleep overa crying childthe toll of countlesssleepless nights was notconsidered – no being aslave meansstay awake,stay awake, stay awakeor die.The child belonged toMrs. Hicks.Of course.The crime was falling asleep.Not the torture.Not the beating her dead. We have done thisContinue reading “Cancel culture”
Hyperthermophile*
If I were a betting womanmy money would be on youresident of Old Faithfullingerer on a deep-sea venttolerant of Death Valley I betyou are doing just fine in Salem,Oregon June of 2021 I doubtthis weather is phasing youat all, minute though you arenaked to my eye so smallbut fierce like the vireodefending her eggs fromContinue reading “Hyperthermophile*”
Checkpoint Charlie*
Can you imagine it? Littlebrown skinned children evadingthe sharp eyes of the Texasgovernor giving all those legislatorsCovid, yes those little devils,challengers of walls and all things thatinjure wildlife roam the stateCapitol in this, the hottest ofwars Mister patriotic, friend ofthe KGB, (well formerly), seems toget a kick out of blamingchildren – poor children that is,sinceContinue reading “Checkpoint Charlie*”
In the time of rain and dust
This is the place to beor so say those nerdyfolks who watchthe sun, dig at treeroots, study the fish,this land where thepeople change fromBedouins to skippersin days, years,minutes – in the landwhere snow disappearsinto hoax like it neverwas This is where wildfiresdevour fewer homesheat domes don’t settlewires do not meltwhere lungs, livers andhearts stand aContinue reading “In the time of rain and dust”
Living on the coast of drama
It sure is addictivethe constant pressureto one-upman-uppush the extra weightoff this water boundairshipinto the thicket ofbramble and gatorsnake at the readyvenom constantliving canwear a personplum out and that’s the pointof coursebury me in thedowntrodden seaso I neverspeak again my voice is justa rat gnawingat that broken-down consciousof yours but even a midgehas to eator howContinue reading “Living on the coast of drama”
The death revelers
What a curse it isthis touchingdisplay of the love ofhatred and fearwords that go bydifferent names these daysthe vigilante asvictim My window on the worldnever ceases to amaze me There is a hierarchy frombig to small fromsquirrel to jay to sparrowwhat is a poorchickadee to do? Dart in dart outlive a life on the runforContinue reading “The death revelers”
Anne's mediocre poetry 