Fahr an' Ice

Fahr an' Ice

by Michael R. Burch

From what I know of death, I'll side with those

who'd like to have a say in how it goes:

just make mine cool, cool rocks (twice drowned in likker),

and real fahr off, instead of quicker.

Originally published by Light Quarterly
Infinity by Michael R. Burch for Beth Have you tasted the bitterness of tears of despair? Have you watched the sun sink through such pale, balmless air that your soul sought its shell like a crab on a beach, then scuttled inside to be safe, out of reach? Might I lift you tonight from earth’s wreckage and damage on these waves gently rising to pay the moon homage? Or better, perhaps, let me say that I, too, have dreamed of infinity . . . windswept and blue. Cherokee Travelers' Blessing I loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch I will extract the thorns from your feet. Yet a little longer, we will walk life's sunlit paths together. I will love you like my own brother, my own blood. When you are disconsolate, I will wipe the tears from your eyes. And when you are too sad to live, I will put your aching heart to rest. Cherokee Travelers' Blessing II loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Happily may you walk in the paths of the Rainbow. Oh, and may it always be beautiful before you, beautiful behind you, beautiful below you, beautiful above you, and beautiful all around you where in Perfection beauty is finished. Cherokee Travelers' Blessing III loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch May Heaven’s warming winds blow gently there, where you reside, and may the Great Spirit bless all those you love, this side of the farthest tide. And wherever you go, whether the journey is fast or slow, may your moccasins leave many cunning footprints in the snow. And when you look over your shoulder, may you always find the Rainbow.

Thirty by Michael R. Burch Thirty crept upon me slowly with feline caution and a slowly-twitching tail ... How patiently she waited for the winds to shift! Now, claws unsheathed, she lies seething to assail her helpless prey.

Star Crossed

by Michael R. Burch

Remember�"

night is not like day;

the stars are closer than they seem ...

now, bending near, they seem to say

the morning sun was merely a dream

ember.

Delicacy by Michael R. Burch for my mother, Christine Ena Burch, and all good mothers Your love is as delicate as a butterfly cleaning its wings, as soft as the predicate the hummingbird sings to itself, gently murmuring�" “Fly! Fly! Fly!” Your love is the string soaring kites untie.

Snap Shots by Michael R. Burch Our daughters must be celibate, die virgins. We triangulate their early paths to heaven (for the martyrs they’ll soon conjugate). We like to hook a little tail. We hope there’s decent a*s in jail. Don’t fool with us; our bombs are smart! (We’ll send the plans, ASAP, e-mail.) The soul is all that matters; why hoard gold if it offends the eye? A pension plan? Don’t make us laugh! We have your plan for sainthood. (Die.)