as I am trying to learn as much as I can
from the self of trees, wind, of bees and birds
of the unlanguaged child I still am, from
wise men and women through the arch of time
I am well aware that we can keep each other captive
inside the machinery of make-believe that makes lonely
bodies & sunsets bearable
I can't help feeling I am just this,
a vagabond in such a deep mystery

The gypsy hymns and railway trails
which you followed into the valley of your trials
Lady Luck brought you enough street child wisdom and thief given kindness
to turn the tracks around and the train whistle to wake me.
Desert saint of your weathered ways
with your thin wrists and moon gleaming lips
Hope to you was like a blinding sunrise, painful to acknowledge, yet sorely lacking without
Never could be without your Larkspur boquets and marigold wreaths
August heat heavy with the scent of cypress trees
Apollo of the dusty sea, flooded the cliffs with light like withering flames
born from boxcar visions and a desperate hunger for that windblown hallelujah we chased down the starlit trestles like missionaries. Summoned from our streetcar medallions, vagabond nymphs, rumbling through moth-eaten states and barren dusks, lazy moon gazing upon our dolorous times and wild days and all our rough and rowdy ways.
No need to heed the judgements of the stars.
With the arid land so wild and lonesome- we weave our own muse into the railway line- followed back to when you were my home, and the streets were the laurel crown of your vagrant fortune.

I couldn’t sleep.
My brain shivered when I moved my eyes.
I felt invincible
“Invincible” fails to describe it.
Then I was a cockroach
Crawling like a little bug
My head missing each obstacle
Just enough to feel them
Brush their matter against me
Blowing a rush of air back at me
Warning me my choices are crucial.
Cutting it close to the end
But - I don’t mind it.
-I’d be a liar if I said
I didn’t like it this way-
Some fear the discomfort called the unknown.
I welcome it with open arms
A gift in each hand.
As long as it never bores me.
Life must never be boring.
Fear is inevitable
It is always present
My greatest weakness.

Life is not the time to find your purpose
It is the time to create it

If I Falter
by Michael R. Burch

for Beth

If I regret
fire in the sunset
exploding on the horizon,
then let me regret loving you.

If I forget
even for a moment
that you are the only one,
then let me forget that the sky is blue.

If I should yearn
in a season of discontentment
for the vagabond light of a companionless moon,
let dawn remind me that you are my sun.

If I should burn—one moment less brightly,
one instant less true—
then with wild scorching kisses,
inflame me, inflame me, inflame me anew.

Keywords/Tags: love, regret, forget, fire, sunset, sky, blue, vagabond, moon, sun, burn, true, kisses, inflame

A window seat
A good book
Dylan's discography
This ought to get me there.
I'm headed out with my life in a bag.
The simplicity of it all on your back.
Profoundly liberating to societies hold.

My mothers love I never knew.
Her affection was cold and pale blue.
My thorny heart was born to sin.
In creek water, I'm born again.
A pack of joes, a fith of gin,
I follow ghosts of what could've been.
Ive seen the sun pass through the. moon
In every town, I start again.