When all the guns are buried my face will swell like bubble gum ready to pop on a surface of lips yielding to love – dance motions. When all the uniforms are unstitched my hands will rub like wishes come true my genie smiling from that magic pot. When all the people gather to bidContinue reading “When all the guns are buried”
Author Archives: Anne Birkam
The birds
The first time I planted sage chicken was cooking on the grill- waiting. I add herbs to this garden of mine, a naturalist, I know I can make anything grow. A little water, a little mulch, a little background music. The soil is damp to my touch. I work it like clay. The background musicContinue reading “The birds”
The Unspectacular Human
In this age of dissonance Billy’s life lies undefined- the body obscured by fear with greed that sucks the edges into an obscurity of lines that move from side to side. To remove the milk which makes him live Seems to be the intent. Greed deems he is unworthy of it. Slash the protein whichContinue reading “The Unspectacular Human”
Guns, God and Bigotry
Any lie will do. Manifest claims the land from east to west – it is destined to be owned, shore begets shore buffalo roam no more- any lie will do. Black man was born in Kenya, brown man is a rapist, rebel flag means southern culture, white man’s syndrome says this – the topicContinue reading “Guns, God and Bigotry”
Anne's mediocre poetry 