• 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.
Capisce?
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?
Please.)
~ Tim Burchfield
12/11/17

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• 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
12/8/17

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• 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,
snowflakes,
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
12/7/17

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• ain’t that history something •

Turns out, (the First)
Queen Elizabeth,
Sovereign of the Seven Seas,
and of all of Britannia to be,
‘went commando’
(and, that’s a fact),
under all of that exquisite
Elizabethan finery.
“Did I hear that right?”
I heard myself say,
recollecting.
“Well, alright, then.
Imagine that.
Ain’t that history something!”
~ Tim Burchfield
11/21/17

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• it’s hard to remain angry in a zen household •

My ‘get up and go’,
has apparently absented the building,
leaving no forwarding address,
and has taken the dogs,
most of my collectibles,
and what remained
of my ‘speaking’ relatives, with,
and I’m not sure I don’t
feel the better for it.
Damned ‘get up and go’,
who needs anything
so ambulatory anywhoo!
Not me, and that’s for sure!!
If I never see it’s delicate,
fleet-footed ferret face
again, it will be too soon!!
(I would slam a door, here, but,
I have installed all ‘pocket doors’,
in my comely abode,
so I’ll just quietly slide this one
until it slides snugly into its
snug little ‘pocket door’
‘landing pad’.
Sorry.)
~ Tim Burchfield
10/6/17

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• lonely •

I love that word,
lonely.
Even as a misnomer,
it’s a myth.
But a myth that gives credence
to a feeling
that is a first indicator
of an open mind:
the one on the other side
of your head.
Feed it. Listen to it.
Ask it what it wants,
to feel happy.
It will speak in dreams,
and impressions,
and (sometimes) songs
and other voices.
The word is a signpost
of an open line,
a siren song,
a gift.
~ Tim Burchfield
9/21/17

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