Sunday, November 28, 2010

Sean Burnham

Sean Burnham is currently a student at the University of Iowa. He enjoys making music, listening to music, reading, and being weird. Writing poetry is new to him, but he's confident he'll figure it out someday. If you happen to see a saxophonist on a street corner whilst meandering through Iowa, it might be him. Or so he hopes.

Crackle and Wail

and narrowed
eyes, how could I

be so blind?

There’s a tourniquet
around the day.

He dragged his feet up
those stairs, shuffling
like a bull in a radio.

When he got to
the top, he looked
at me and all
I saw was an IOU before
he threw himself
against the wall again
and again and once
more for good measure.


Rolling the sun back
the yart behint, I leap
t atop
the house to look

(my bett)
She was

gone. I screamt
and rollt out
the sun, thinking
to surprise her. She was

n’t surprised. Always
trying, I surp
rise with her
what she knows.

Flying Fox

Aspen air-
freshener, pine trees cut down
for the sake of smell and why
don’t you plant a forest in your car?

And in fifty years,
maybe someone will
drive your tree
over a bridge and into the bay,
crying and laughing to live
in a tree, to die
in a tree, to fall
and to fly, and why
don’t you plant a forest in the sea?