• a poem in ‘b’ ~ or ~ am i right? •

First off, this don’t scan,
so get used to it.
But, listen up.
You’ll be glad you did.
One of the very important things I learned,
from my time living in Brooklyn,
(New York – in case you’re from Mars…)
(hold for applause)
is that…and, I wouldn’t lie to you,
let me tell you,
is that…and I noticed this right away
(I’d have had to be blind,
and, bat-shit crazy, not to,
am I right?)…
is that…and, again,
this is very important,
so pay attention,
and please make a note of it…
is that…by the time somebody…
and it could be anybody (honestly),
a family member,
the local priest, who could say?
a random guy on the IRT…
Wait, where was I?
Oh, yeah…what I learned,
is that,
is that,
by the time somebody
gets around to calling you,
a ‘rat fuck’,
it’s probably already too late to leave.
(I was going to say, ‘leave with dignity’,
but, who am I kiddin’.
Am I right?!! Am I right?!!
Are you kiddin’ me?
~ Tim Burchfield



• this mouth •

Would you, pretty please,
stop telling me, to,
“Smile, for the camera!”?
Look at these lips.
Do they not,
have the look,
of, two, “stretched”,
rubber bands?
Look at this mouth.
Is this not,
a Celtic mouth,
if you’ve ever seen,
such a thing?
Trust me, madame, when I say, that
this mouth,
was made
for grimacing.
~ Tim Burchfield


• wind to memory •

Was talking’ to a friend,
just yesterday,
about what it might be like,
to be a tree.
Then, thinking myself,
a long residing plant,
with far reaching roots,
and leaves, as individualized as snowflakes
(in fact,
just my opinion,
but, in my opinion,
should be jealous),
and with
bark for skin –
an ancient oak,
or a robust redwood, perhaps,
(a.k.a., a ‘tree’),
I felt
a peace beyond understanding,
and a certain certainty.
And then,
unbidden, it came to me,
as unadorned,
and in as clear a language as can be
(tsk! So like a tree…), the words,
“I prefer the wind…
… to memory.”
~ Tim Burchfield