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William C. Burns, Jr.

  

The Boy

There was a boy on the bus
Who was afraid that his stop would come
   and he would miss it
He did not know the bus driver
   and he was sure the driver did not know him

His breath clouded the window
   and he made little foot prints
He wrote my name on the frosted window
   he could see the snow through the letters

 

 

Train Scape

My shoes sleep under the end of my berth
   and the rails rumble deep within my thoughts
Most folks don´t ride trains anymore

Who answers my phone when I´m not there?
Does he vanish when I open the door

The next time I go home
   I´ll knock before I enter
      just to see who answers the door

 

 

The Orb

The matrix of Time/Space is maintained
   within this orb of light

It spins so silently
It seems to have no moving parts
It seems to keep time without touching the sides

It seems to run on faith alone

 

 

The Boy in the Car

There is a boy
   in the back seat of the car
The whine of the transmission
   has put him to sleep

I stop the car and cover him with my coat
He starts to say something
I lightly touch his lips
   and tell him shush

I sing an old song
   as we sail down the road
When the boy wakes

 

 

The High Road and Holy One

So Red
So rare
Consider the chromium steel
Crafted by the Sublime Hand
Consider the sensuous lines
The master Artisan undulating in
The throes of one cataclysmic orgasm
One perfect creation

Oh High Road and Holy One
Never before have the streets
Known one such as this
Mechanized Messiah
Incomplete in stillness
A frozen dancer aching to move
   to glide
Fulfilled only when plying
   the sacred ways
Singing praise and worship
In the hymn of the Infernal Combustion Engine

   

William C. Burns, Jr. (Millennium Artist) phased into existence in  Washington, DC, circa early 1950s, putting him on the trailing edge to the beautiful people of the late sixties.  Clearly he watched way too much Dobie Gillis and idolized Maynard (Shaggy from Scooby-Do).  Bill is a strange confluence of degreed electrical and biomedical engineer, graphic artist, actor, playwright, poet, father, and husband, but his first love is poetry (OK, the kids are more important than poetry, but it runs a close second.  He has published prose in intermix, ..ad infinitum, and others, and poetry at Cross Section, Gravity:  A Journal of Online Writing, Morpo Review, and others.  He also won the reader´s choice award at Third Horizon.  "I am calling for a balance between Art and Engineering, Rhyme and Reason, Yin and Yang," he says.  "Other than that I like to hike, do set design and act in plays, and drive on the Blueridge Parkway."

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