Tag Archives: Nicole Burney

Headlong & Farthing

by Nicole Burney

I get these urges
to smash everything in sight
and retrieve only the odd bits to create a new species.

I riddle cacao beans, silver Ganesh,
and a turquoise paper clip
gathered up in a mason jar
because they hold certain promises.

I have this dream
in which I plunge into Sirius
eating my way to its core
regardless of the heat.

I blow seeds off a dandelion
because I’m happy to watch them float
searching for a patch of firmament;
I keep a handful
as if they’re tiny mnemonic diodes
tucked inside my medulla
or better yet, the hypothalamus to curb my appetites.

I try to be sensible
but I am tiger-born
I crush bone and birth all manner of heady artifacts;

and if I am sane
it is in lieu of the nuance and clockwork
of an eye or an old Victrola
stripped to essential worth
and away from absolute geometry.


Reclaiming a Lost Art

by Nicole Burney

I’m gonna…

read Moliere in the sunshine of my front porch
and take deep, slow yoga-breaths
and salute the sun in my living room
as if reclaiming a lost art.

I’ve got to…

flesh out this mind-sickness by name
with black ink on weathered parchment
molten from my very own nucleus
then build a new and fertile house upon its ashes.

There’s something to be said…

for losing everything
for making a proper mess and
failing. repeatedly.
for letting go of Mighty Mouse
because she’s dead and good riddance.

I come home by way of…

the good Jazz
Sundays in my reading chair
and the serpentine roads of imperfect humanism
which reminds me that open doors are terrifying
and the closest thing I know to bliss.