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Epigrams by Michael R. Burch Negligibles by Michael R. Burch Show me your most intimate items of apparel: begin with the hem of your quicksilver slip ... Negotiables by Michael R. Burch Love should be more than the sum of its parts: of its potions and pills and subterranean arts. Her Answer (Sappho, fragment 155) loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch A short revealing frock? It's just my luck your lips were made to mock! Sappho, fragment 22 loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch That enticing girl's clinging dresses leave me trembling, overcome by happiness, as once, when I saw the Goddess in my prayers eclipsing Cyprus. Imperfect Perfection by Michael R. Burch You’re too perfect for words: a problem for a poet. Expert Advice by Michael R. Burch Your breasts are perfect for your lithe, slender body. Please stop making false comparisons your hobby! Excerpt from Love Sonnet XVII by Pablo Neruda loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch I do not love you like coral or topaz, or the blazing hearth’s incandescent white flame; I love you as obscure things are embraced in the dark ... secretly, in shadows, unnamed & untamed. Every Day You Play by Pablo Neruda loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Every day you play with Infinity’s rays. Exquisite visitor, you arrive with the flowers and the water. You are vastly more than this immaculate head I clasp tightly like a cornucopia, every day, between my hands ... I love you only because I love you by Pablo Neruda loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch I love you only because I love you; I am torn between loving and not loving you, Between apathy and desire. My heart vacillates between ice and fire. Duet, Minor Key by Michael R. Burch Without the drama of cymbals or the fanfare and snares of drums, I present my case stripped of its fine veneer: Behold, thy instrument. Play, for the night is long. Inconstant Temptress by Michael R. Burch Love, beautiful but fatal to many bewildered hearts, commands us to be faithful, then tempts us with sweets and tarts. Sudden Shower by Michael R. Burch The day’s eyes were blue until you appeared and they wept at your beauty. Kissin’ ’n’ buzzin’ by Michael R. Burch Kissin’ ’n’ buzzin’ the bees rise in a dizzy circle of two. Oh, when I’m with you, I feel like kissin’ ’n’ buzzin’ too! Warming Her Pearls by Michael R. Burch Warming her pearls, her breasts gleam like constellations. Her belly is a bit rotund ... she might have stepped out of a Rubens. Dark Cloud, Silver Lining from “Love in the Time of the Coronavirus” by Michael R. Burch Despite my stormy demeanor, my hands have never been cleaner! Questionable Credentials by Michael R. Burch Poet? Critic? Dilettante? Do you know what's good, or do you merely flaunt? Published by Asses of Parnassus Delicacy by Michael R. Burch for all good mothers Your love is as delicate as a butterfly cleaning its wings, as soft as the predicate the hummingbird sings to itself, gently murmuring? “Fly! Fly! Fly!” Your love is the string soaring kites untie. The Po' Biz Explained by Michael R. Burch A poet may work from sun to sun, but his editor's work is never done. The editor’s work is never done. The critic adjusts his cummerbund. While the critic adjusts his cummerbund, the audience exits to mingle and slum. As the audience exits to mingle and slum, the anthologist rules, a pale jury of one. The Secret of Her Clothes by Michael R. Burch The secret of her clothes is that they whisper a little mysteriously of things unseen in the language of nylon and cotton, so that when she walks to her amorous drawers to rummage among the embroidered hearts and rumors of pastel slips for a white wisp of Victorian lace, the delicate rustle of fabric on fabric, the slightest whisper of telltale static, electrifies me. Published by Erosha, Velvet Avalanche (Anthology) and Poetry Life & Times The Greatest of These ... by Michael R. Burch The hands that held me tremble. The arms that lifted fall. Angelic flesh, now parchment, is held together with gauze. But her undimmed eyes still embrace me; there infinity can be found. I can almost believe such love will reach me, underground. honeybee by Michael R. Burch love was a little treble thing— prone to sing and (sometimes) to sting honeydew, honeydont by Michael R. Burch i sampled honeysuckle and it made my taste buds buckle! Ceaseless chaos— ice floes clash in the Soya straits. —Yamaguchi Seishi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Banish the snow for the human torpedo now lies exploded. —Yamaguchi Seishi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch (My interpretation is that this haiku is about WWII kamikaze pilots. Winter is metaphorically the season of death and snow may be seen as a shroud for the dead.) The sky hangs low over Karafuto, as white as the spawning herring. —Yamaguchi Seishi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Finally the cicadas stopped shrilling: calm before gale. —Yamaguchi Seishi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch As grief becomes unbearable someone snaps a nearby branch. —Yamaguchi Seishi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch As grief reaches its breaking point someone snaps a nearby branch. —Yamaguchi Seishi, loose translation by Michael R. Burch Trapped in the spider’s web the firefly’s bulb blinks out forever. —Yamaguchi Seishi, loose translation by Michael R. Burch Trapped in the spider’s web The firefly’s light Is swiftly consumed. —Yamaguchi Seishi, loose translation by Michael R. Burch Keywords: epigram, epigrams, epitaph, eulogy, death, obituary, love, introspection, intimacy, intimate, apparel, clothing, clothes, dress, dresses, body, breasts, heart, hearts, desire, passion, longing, short, brief, poems, poetry

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