Let men burn stars out from innocuous lightyears pulled through the vortex

Like needle and thread, sown by centuries of sparked, graceful union

(Their strength and vigor found in the cross-stitching)

And ever gently unfolding like outer reach, like inner *****

In the garden of our senses, flowing with milk and honey, by means of forethought or afterglow

One thought of ecstasy, one thought of infinite parable taking new light to bed

The sacred beams bending to form a crescent, a lunula of utmost happiness

My baby passed away
And now I'm feeling blue
My baby passed away
And now I'm feeling blue
I thought she'd be my baby, but she has
Other plans

She hopped aboard a train
And now she's riding West
She hopped aboard a train
And now she's riding West
She said don't do it
Don't buy a ticket

My love's gone forever
Buried six feet deep
My love's gone forever
Six feet underneath
Oh, how she's the death of me
Way she says never

Right now,
as you lay warm and blessed,
your possibities are endeless:

You could be a ballerina who discovers a fresh science of soar,
you could be a globetrotter who finds a new meaning of tour,
you could be a plumber who invents a tap,
you could be the voice that makes all your friends' clap,
you could be a hair dresser who is known for her perm,
you could adore reading and be a book worm,
you could be athletic and win at sports,
you could be the lawyer who wows all the courts.

But now is not the time for possibilty,
only certainty:

the certainty that the two people you see the most shine on you with all of love's beam,

and think you are the best
they have ever seen.

September 27th
You died today
Your life just slipped away
Maybe souls exist and I’ll see you again
Pretty lies we tell ourselves but it’s all pretend
My tethers to this world are growing thin
I often wonder why they say suicides a sin
The world with out you has grown a little grim
I know I need time to grieve
But it’s hard when there’s no time to breath

i already have a kid

she steals my scrunchies
and knocks my **** over
she eats the feathers off of my dream catchers
and sleeps on my chest
she bites me all the time
and apologizes with dead crickets
she chews apart all of the wires in my house
and frequently gets her head stuck in cups

she's a little ****
but she's the best baby
(the only baby)
i could ever want

pregnant with jealousy  
I give birth  
and cradle it in my arms
I let it cry ... scream ... **** ...  
then I sing a lullaby  
and remind us that we are still
loved
until it shrinks  
and crawls back into my gut

Sonnet: Second Sight (II)
by Michael R. Burch

(Newborns see best at a distance of 8 to 14 inches.)

Wiser than we know, the newborn screams,
red-faced from breath, and wonders what life means
this close to death, amid the arctic glare
of warmthless lights above.
Beware! Beware!—
encrypted signals, codes? Or ciphers, noughts?

Interpretless, almost, as his own thoughts—
the brilliant lights, the brilliant lights exist.
Intruding faces ogle, gape, insist—
this madness, this soft-hissing breath, makes sense.
Why can he not float on, in dark suspense,
and dream of life? Why did they rip him out?

He frowns at them—small gnomish frowns, all doubt—
and with an ancient mien, O sorrowful!,
re-closes eyes that saw in darkness null
ecstatic sights, exceeding beautiful.

Published by The Neovictorian/Cochlea. Keywords/Tags: sonnet, newborn, baby, birth, labor, slap, breath, screams, life, sight, vision, mrbson