Rick Burkhardt

The Book

Warren Lehrer, protest in New York City (October 2025—No Kings Day)

Not exaggerating for effect,

doing everything for effect,

 

a quote in mile-high

flammable letters from the

 

Book of Horrible People

 

who appear to surround

 

us, so they say themselves

through various techno-social

 

amplification devices,

where you or I might be

 

“excited” in the sense of

“stimulated” or “set vibrating”

 

by, say, an unexpected

poetic maneuver, they

 

prefer their own frothily

multiplying descriptions

 

of ways they plan to

make themselves worse,

 

that they don’t like books

is a cliche, they don’t even

 

Warren Lehrer, protest in New York City (October 2025—No Kings Day)

like modern action movies, or

the chillingly educational

 

protagonists thereof, whose market

has summarily collapsed,

 

ditto the market for

everything except guesses

 

on where our attention will

go next, which have become

 

very expensive, the dudes

employed to sell us several

 

thousand photographs of everything

we do are pushing us way

 

past our comfort zones,

every day another long novel

 

to memorize word-for-word

before it vanishes from

 

the government page

in the sun, in the cloud

Warren Lehrer, protest in New York City (October 2025—No Kings Day)


April 2025

All but one of the males are banished

to lower surrounding trees introducing

 

a hypothetical air bubble into the dictator’s

bloodstream, the indignities one endures

 

May 2025

A mariachi version of “Imagine” marches

down Broadway past Zuccotti Park,

cops form a protective hemisphere

 

around the Wall Street Bull, the future

changes keys announcing a military parade

for the ruler’s birthday they choose Full Spectrum

 

Dominance over reality hoping rain will rinse

humidity from the air, white beans thickening the pasta

save money by eliminating all trade, “I run

 

the country and the world” and there you were

alive on video playing characters who improbably

persisted yeah the song’s a little long,

 

reopen Alcatraz and double the cost of foreign films

for Christmas he says, buy your child five pencils,

throw money into Bitcoin for the rich to catch,

 

they just heard about India and Pakistan but they’ll

be ready to colonize Mars in four to six years,

you’ll find a parking space a mile away white

 

smoke above the papal palace wetting

fingers in your mouth on a dark highway they

sculpted from stone slabs, sewing stars of

 

white thread into fabric night, all their mythic

motions smoothed.  Capitalist evil becomes a

go-to plot point, but the really bad ones use drugs

 

on a mountain, just the brick chimney survived

the fire walking on heels to keep toes from the

rain runoff, this river history remembered

 

by a cannon, you’ll have to eat it faster since

it’s already day-old, he sneers, anybody

can pay for things, a plane gifted by a dictator

 

coated with gold and rust, methane from his

chatbot cloaking Memphis, christening computers

dopey names from sci-fi like most evil geniuses

 

he’s actually stupid, scarred by the bandaid

the doctor flip-flops on your medication, rents

out the bedrooms and lives rent-free in the

 

common space.  “It [the Constitution] might

say that, but” holding down a job is comedy,

holding down all jobs is tragedy, it’s irreverent,

 

it’s unapologetic, it’s murderous, it’s apocalyptic,

major anniversaries in the history of racism

turned my notebook into a wallet.  Each store

 

front makes its own chocolate.  The closest

we come to politics is the ancient

Greeks, surprisingly minimal insight,

 

when I need experimental grief assistance I won’t

come here, passing real laws in the figurative dead

of the literal night.  No trolley, no problem.

 

No art, no deal, senators beg for services

they just cut, striving for human progress

without the humans, twenty-three years

 

from the “great society” speech to the

“society doesn’t exist” speech, new tech

enables friends of mine who’ve never met

 

to argue violently, but how could that be you

on this street in this country spraying around

my ankles the official transcripts, gone

 

in a puff of transparency, he accused me of

words having meanings, I sat wondering

about the dangerous angle of my neck,

 

biting off six thousand international students

to spite the face of intelligence.  Only elitists

enjoy well-written paragraphs, shaking the

 

hand of a felon at West Point, stay and listen

to me talk about a poet who wrote of

emptied landscapes, featureless buildings,

 

deserts with no events, as if his

goal was to describe nothing, this is

a collage of those fugitive travels, some

 

barely moving, using human consciousness

doesn’t require the entire electrical grid of

Tennessee the way your voice surprises me

 

by lilting upward, leaving you two days

to find an apartment, forehead pressed into pillow,

a stupid person’s idea of a smart college.

 

Aftertaste of awful in the broken water,

I too must have rubbed too hard against the

oldest general store in the United States,

 

going against the spirit but not the letter

of the blues his instrument finds contaminants

off the scale, violent ICE arrests on the

 

hotel breakfast room TV, the next billionaire

steps into the last’s still trembling air,

wind knocks the power out.

just to play melodic gongs, restaurants

close for days after the feast, slurp the flesh

 

off the seed, every inch of you I taste

sprawled asleep on the sidewalk,

 

no cushion, neck bent back, an art museum

occupied as a military base by the Japanese

 

then bombed by the US tweeting “only the weak

will fail!” in all caps, bright yellow

 

and five inches at its widest coiling

around his shoulders, the wealthy have

 

glass in their windows, snarls of power lines

strung in the dozens from the same poles,

 

their sister city, San Antonio, represented by

a pair of 15-foot boots.  They dislike dictatorship

 

when it loses them money, white butterflies

pollinating international friendship gardens,

 

metallic boyband in the stone replica

(not a real castle, but real stones!) animalian

 

figureheads compete for pond turf suddenly

the taxi’s front wheels roared up 40 degrees,

 

you gazed over a thousand brightly colored

roofs and sighed “they have a good government”.

 

Today’s arrest quotas met by ignoring laws

the national animal helps the farmer

 

we evolved to the point where we could call

this a parrotfish, the President’s first 100 crimes

 

feeling the water rush the eardrum, your song

of being the sole survivor above the canyon’s

 

lips tease each other with near meetings,

hi-ho the derry-o the doctor in the mall

 

the child comes out blurry in photos, decides

to play for ten minutes with a tragic emotion,

 

an overflow congregation of thousands half

this island is a selfie vortex sleeping

 

in airport chairs our last few minutes on the shuttle

pressure in the bridge of the nose jousts against

 

pressure in the cabin, big budgets sink ships

midcentury male heroes and their tragic-but-not-

 

too-tragic easily-overcome flaws, when she dances

the flashing lights free her and us from the strictures,

 

no escape from reality lasts long, but this

is her reality, not ours, and she’s fictional.

 

Today’s polite but insistent letter concerns

what makes us human?  taxes, jobs, dates,

 

poems, using toilets, baseball, they can’t think of

any original ways to be fascists, so they’re going

 

after people with autism bored by the slow

crescendo of tension, lost in the hallways of

 

the doctor’s office, millions of us holding signs,

relying on accumulation of meanings by sitting

 

and eating a burrito outside the restaurant where

I didn’t buy anything and they don’t sell burritos,

 

I drummed up lots of business for them

did you have to put meat in the soup?

 

I ask you to speak up in the whirling traffic even

the pope said our economic system is dangerous,

 

they erase your social security

number and mark you “dead”,

 

name today after the Earth, their shells

grew too soft, their parents

 

attempting to warm them with their bodies

instead destroyed them leading to

 

intergenerational distrust, a news cycle

governed by events, we will take your

 

power plant and Mother Russia gendered

and aged to perfection will take the rest,

 

a man defunds a tree (“Vladimir, STOP!”)

measles are now progressive on a warrant

 

called administrative you can pull a man

out of court to arrest him again,

 

soon he may return to test his beloved

disguised as a simple end rhyme deported

 

at the age of four from the country where

he is a citizen without cancer medication

 

or lawyers, poets shout

above rain on the roof canvas,

 

desperation ditched by shuttle bus,

executive orders may not direct or empower

 

government employees to break laws,

“Executive Branch” the name of a new

 

D.C. access-bargain club for laundering

billionaire bribes, one thousand steel-tipped

 


mountains in the tectonic bay “wondering

if you can trust the nuclear codes to people

 

who don’t know how to organize a group chat,”

build a successful sandwich even with

 

weak-link bread, a recorded voice says “daybreak”

quieter and quieter until your hearing is perfect,

 

we watch the film of her she didn’t

want made, the President’s first

 

one hundred crimes just try to network

with me sharing a park bench silently


Laurie Price

           A portrait dark

Sky’s everything, its etymology of birds and stars, planets,

comets tilts into the wind – your hand curves a portrait

dark & provocative that makes a collage of personism

with global strategy whereby mornings won’t be like

yesterday, oh no. Now everything’s changed. Hooligans

have taken over the vast ness of vast and they mean

to last long past a tolerated splinter. The shard

that wrecks my idea of endurance is not only sharp

but bloody. Relations where there’s always conflict

are more urgent now. Policies play a stringent role

and the keyword is play. This is no game, tho; no

one can win. Who gets played? Wonder at the empty

green fire of us. Hairline light lines range across

the already mottled surface you create, attenuated

by your own clenched eyes. Keep your sight line on that.

 

At this point

If alignment could help reassert that truth matters, I’d realign.

And you? Can you imagine where a spacious mind ends I mean

there’s probably some limit or ragged edge where space

is marred but we’re always starting over, no? Look, a new

milk carton sans photos of missing children because

at this point we’re all missing, or kidnapped, psychically,

daily, not heard and only barely seen. There’s a screen

for every desire, a caption that’ll hold someone captive,

but for each quick “answer” questions overheard hover,

invade your peace. Let them in. Give them space.

   Signals

To take apart what won’t work doesn’t imply fix

where a lingering arched eyebrow lifts shifts

amidst its attributes. Curtains wouldn’t mark

the ceiling in a really strong wind here either.

Sunlight interstices between the petals of

an Azucena, trades invisible for bright.

The most necessary gift: illumination.

Two gigantic shoulders hunch in ponderance

where empty air seeps. This might or not be

called thinking. A square is a place to assemble,

a shape to join. Nothing neural in making that clear.

Where we are is here, dangerous impasse or where

signals are sent but gradients of there miss the hitch.

 

Track Forward 


Spools of sad ephemera emit surfaces  

and patterns spill strangely onto earth as if  

nothing mitigates complexity further than  

what disappears into dust. Fractals are breathing  

rituals that sublimate skin, exhale connotations  

like as to distort facts, but then poem cave opens,  

flickers into future where question marks dominate – 

like what can be said of or would it have  

tracked forward, the only direction after  

all known bridges are blazed? 

Warren Lehrer, protest in New York City (October 2025—No Kings Day)