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T. Birch: Featured Poet
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i. ii. iii. iv. v. vi. vii. viii. ix. x. take what you can get anytime, any- thing you want and I bet you'll stay hungry, still remain famished. check it out hear the voice sing the praises rejoice in the absence of concupiscent faces singing harmonic and random pellucid traces ever see the chorus for all the soloists? the symptoms of illness for the disease? capture a moment, then turn it on its head? When what's hidden is found in plain simple language - a sound and its echo off wavering in the distance still reverberates. your template's all right but it makes a shallow impression despite the thick metal fetch and carry my sticks off to the woodland grove and lie in your leavings burnt, little saviors you imps take persuading so little burglar - listen - be charmed. sonatas, not symphonies are the way I'll overpower your talismans. tapestries of elegance in which are woven beatific disguises. fearful regrets and ever present dangers come to find their cures, these words that are tied and bound up, carted in chains to a burial ground laughter, not soothing but harsh and ascetic, a fine bitter astringent for our purification comic, comedic funny and riotous: these are not synonyms but merely instruments healing is painful whether you fight or cooperate so laugh, brother smile at me - at least be distracted circles are ominous their roundness can begin anywhere you like but it's only a starting point a direction to take which soon becomes meaningless you may lie, even fabricate your own perfect curves but see how it hurts when your truth isn't straight just a sine or a cosine wave - it will never return. take what you will anytime, any- thing you want and I bet you're still hungry after the feast. © T. Birch 2002 Back to Contents
White Rose in a Tumbler Also included in this feature is an essay by Mia inspired by T. Birch's poem "Ten."
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