Lit by nature,
a flame of beauty

burning fiery
in her eyes.

Glowing like
the
mountains sunrise.
Soft,
and calm
like lilly of
the valley
beside spring.
Modeling silky
smile.
Making my bell 🛎 ring.
Rainbow 🌈 worship such allurment, can really
make carnivores
easily feed on grass.

Beautiful creature,
perfect nature.

High in the mountains:

the silence, the absence, most --


of all of myself.

The Drawer of Mermaids
by Michael R. Burch

This poem is dedicated to Alina Karimova, who was born with severely deformed legs and five fingers missing. Alina loves to draw mermaids and believes her fingers will eventually grow out.

Although I am only four years old,
they say that I have an old soul.
I must have been born long, long ago,
here, where the eerie mountains glow
at night, in the Urals.

A madman named Geiger has cursed these slopes;
now, shut in at night, the emphatic ticking
fills us with dread.
(Still, my momma hopes
that I will soon walk with my new legs.)

It’s not so much legs as the fingers I miss,
drawing the mermaids under the ledges.
(Observing, Papa will kiss me
in all his distracted joy;
but why does he cry?)

And there is a boy
who whispers my name.
Then I am not lame;
for I leap, and I follow.
(G’amma brings a wiseman who says

our infirmities are ours, not God’s,
that someday a beautiful Child
will return from the stars,
and then my new fingers will grow
if only I trust Him; and so

I am preparing to meet Him, to go,
should He care to receive me.)

Keywords/Tags: mermaid, mermaids, child, children, childhood, Urals, Ural Mountains, soul, soulmate, radiation

San Mateo ******* Dump
What was it like when the shooting started?
What was it really like?

How did it sound from where we were stood
Way back then now a ******* dump
But then hills valleys trees grass
Enemy positions a battle ground

Where such killing wounding history
How did it sound when the shooting started?
San Mateo Landfill atop Shotgun Road

Now full of ******* back then full of war
If we listen can we hear the shots shouts
Sounds of war killing death silence…

The call of the desert is wild
The sea relentless
Mountains peek unreachable
Wind blows my tears away
Sunset always beautiful

when you climb mountains
you leave your footprints
in the rigid soil
that feeds into the ground
we once laid on
waiting for the sun to descend
to take our guards down
and prepare our fingers
for pointing at stars

Time leaves us reminiscing
Leaving behind bitter tastes laced with honey
something you liked about coffee
on these notes

I think about the distances between
Who you are and what I hope to be
And I see the mountains you said you'd climb

You are so beautiful
that I would move mountains
just to get a better view.

High in the mountains

there is plenty of heaven --


to make you happy.

Make your move
Own all you do
Understanding is helpful
Never back down
Take your chances
Aim your arrow
Inhale and release
No hesitation
Seeing it through to the end