Eric Burke
Jeremy GeddesVia Dolorosa
The ribs of our garage door
form crosses behind us.
We lose sight
of where we were going.
My Pregnant Mother
Clutter is her geis.
(She often dreams of seeding a cloud.)
“Just think what
ancient pollution
would rain down
to poison their frogs.”
She often dreams,
but ressentiment is not her thing.
She just wants to feel the rain,
to collect the frogs.
In Medias Res
Mom calls herself the Indefinite Dyad
and rests in his bosom.
The Aggregate of Our Wisdom
it’s close
inside a debris hut
Eric Burke lives with his family and a rich assortment of backyard birds in Columbus, Ohio. He has an MA in Classics from The Ohio State University but has worked as a computer programmer for the past 15 years. He is a reader for Dale Wisely’s wonderful literary journal Right Hand Pointing. Eric’s poems and short fiction can be found in Thrush Poetry Journal, decomP, PANK, A cappella Zoo, Weave Magazine and A Clean, Well-Lighted Place.
Eric Burke at Right Hand Pointing
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