Burgess Needle

Dead Stop
Later, I eluded leaves,
heard Mozart at the end.
I was amazed at the end.
After the flush and gasp of love
I knelt by the erotic curve of your side
To hear Mozart’s 21st concerto in C.
We were at the Hotel Pierre,
With its chandelier of prisms
Where I peel away your radiance,
            colors of autumn.
            light splitting
Into blue, red and green
Echo of wild desert grass.
Later, I fell a great distance
            branches grazed me
            there was no time
To recount even one passionate act.
I was speechless as I fell,
            though not silent,
            looking down to see
                        a glass chandelier
                        rushing up.
My voice arrived,
            muffled as a shriek.
One more of life’s inquisitions.
In the end,
            your name punched
            canyon walls,
                        lost itself in arroyos, finally
                        came to a rest some time after
I slammed to a dead stop.

Erren Geraud Kelly

4 train

boho girl
dressed in many worlds
walks around in chuck tailors
with a scarf
bluer than john lee hooker
I compliment her on her
Brown fedora
And she says “thank you”
Wearing john lennon
As she’s walking way
The child annie hall gave up
Long ago

Eric Burke

Two Fictions

Between Me and My Conscience
birds sit on the fence with their mouths open, panting.
I can see their tongues.
"This is a small delicacy
for the eye,"
you say,
"a moment of demotic privilege."
I tap on the glass to scare the cat away.

The Garden
My wife says weeds
are strangling my marigold
seedlings. I do not believe her.