Epigrams Iv

Sex Hex by Michael R. Burch Love’s full of cute paradoxes (and highly acute poxes). Love by Michael R. Burch Love is either wholly folly, or fully holy. Nun Fun Undone by Michael R. Burch Abbesses' recesses are not for excesses! Here and Hereafter by Michael R. Burch Life’s saving graces are love, pleasure, laughter ... wisdom, it seems, is for the Hereafter. Dawn by Michael R. Burch for Beth and Laura Bring your particular strength to the strange nightmarish fray: wrap up your cherished ones in the golden light of day. Housman was right ... by Michael R. Burch It's true that life’s not much to lose, so why not hang out on a cloud? It’s just that the passage is hard and the objections loud. Not Elves, Exactly by Michael R. Burch Something there is that likes a wall, that likes it spiked and likes it tall, that likes its pikes’ sharp rows of teeth and doesn’t mind its victims’ grief (wherever they come from, far or wide) as long as they fall on the other side. Self-ish by Michael R. Burch Let’s not pretend we “understand” other elves As long as we remain mysteries to ourselves. Long Division by Michael R. Burch All things become one Through death’s long division And perfect precision. Laughter’s Cry by Michael R. Burch Because life is a mystery, we laugh and do not know the half. Because death is a mystery, we cry when one is gone, our numbering thrown awry. Ah! Sunflower by Michael R. Burch after William Blake O little yellow flower like a star ... how beautiful, how wonderful we are! Piecemeal by Michael R. Burch And so it begins—the ending. The narrowing veins, the soft tissues rending. Your final solution is pending. Meal Deal by Michael R. Burch Love is a splendid ideal (at least till it costs us a meal). Lance-Lot by Michael R. Burch Preposterous bird! Inelegant! Absurd! … Until the great & mighty heron brandishes his fearsome sword. Why the Kid Gloves Came Off by Michael R. Burch for Lemuel Ibbotson It's hard to be a man of taste in such a waste: hence the lambaste. Early Warning System by Michael R. Burch A hairy thick troglodyte, Mary, squinched dingles excessively airy. To her family’s deep shame, their condo became the first cave to employ a canary! Descent by Michael R. Burch I have listened to the rain all this morning and it has a certain gravity, as if it knows its destination, perhaps even its particular destiny. I do not believe mine is to be uplifted, although I, too, may be flung precipitously and from a great height. Reading between the lines by Michael R. Burch Who could have read so much, as we? Having the time, but not the inclination, TV has become our philosophy, sheer boredom, our recreation.