Monday 5 December 2022

Six Poems by Wayne F. Burke

 




from OUT OF MY MIND

 

sinners

 

two guys hauling a tarp

full of leaves

from the lawn of the

church; a guy

at each end,

the tarp sagging

as if a body

within--

a church body who

died for sins

committed--

the lawn is swept clean

of him,

of whomever:

me, you, some commandment-

breaking bastard, or

the guy

who wrote 'em.

 

 

Sitting on a park bench

in the sun shine

as I write 

this poem or

scribble

while a guy

who wants to borrow money

from me

stands nearby on a street corner

beneath circling pigeons...

A siren whines in the

distance

in this instance

of

life never ending,

amen.

 

 

Pick up the words again--

like a suitcase from the

terminal, and

add, subtract, revise--

no one ever wrote anything

good straight-out, or

I never have anyway;

maybe Shakespeare did

maybe Kerouac

but not me--

I am no Bard

Beat Daddio

or Bawd

either.

Lawd, no.

 

 

storm

 

the darkness thickens

like a plot

and the river eddies, waiting

as

lights of the laundry

flicker, and

thunder follows

a scraggly scribbled bolt

of lightning that sets off

an alarm:

signal to cover or

cower, as

the Luftwaffe crosses the channel

and rain drops rap

like knuckles

on car roof tops.

 

 

Feeling alone and

lonely, can't make a connection--

it hurts

the pain upsets me,

I get pissed:

look around for someone

to blame

and decide on the waitress,

for not being friendlier, not

giving me a hug, or

a kiss...

I take a dollar off

her tip; to teach

her...What?

I stand on the roadside

staring at cars

speeding past, fleeing

from me.

 

 

9 billion Years

 

the sun only has

another 9 billion years

to burn:

What do we do when it

starts to turn red?

Get the fuck out of

here,

fly to Mars maybe

until it too burns,

and then?

have to tow the moon with us

and launch that sucker

outward

until the sun

cools its jets

and somebody

can come up

with some heat

and light.



Wayne F. Burke's poetry has been widely published in print and online (including in LOTHLORIEN POETRY JOURNAL). He is author of 8 published poetry collections, a collection of short stories, and the non-fiction work, HENRY MILLER, Spirit & Flesh, recently (9-22) published by Cyberwit. net. He lives in Vermont.

 


2 comments:

  1. So wonderful to see poems by Wayne!! One of my favorite poets. The end line in SINNERS is perfect. First laugh I’ve had all day. Thank you!!

    ReplyDelete
  2. That was my comment. I forget to hit the arrow to post my name. Lol!!!

    ReplyDelete

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