#45: It's Me

Another new poem by Gary Dale Burns

Ideally, this poem would be animated and be able to be manipulated by the reader as a three-dimensional, transparent cylinder, cycled both forward and backward, like a rock tumbler or bingo cage turner, letting the lines interpose while also altering the order of the traditional top-to-bottom scan. I do not have the time or means to do so, but if there are any interested readers or anyone who knows someone interested in collaborating with a poet to create such digital object, I’d be delighted to get in touch.

My next chapbook, “Rootless,” will be released in the Spring of 2025 on my own ‘press.’ Paid subscribers will receive complimentary copies while free subscribers will be goaded into giving up $10 USD to get something special in the mail. Isn’t it so nice to receive something that isn’t junk? The mailbox is one of the last spaces for poetry to exist as a real gift, a surprise one waits for - to hold, to smell, to touch, and lastly - to read.

It’s Me

What I believe defunds me 
and what I disavow - 
Static cling 

Even in nightmares 
We also share 
the same apartment 

A stasis of fears 

I told you I was broken 
In the parking lot
Above the waterfall 
that once fed 
some textile mill 

I'm a busted loom 
My inner child's hand could fix 
(missing 
finger 
s) 

My adult teeth 
Bite inside my lip 
and on my webbing 

but fade also 

Prayers answered 
Everyday 
(maybe that's backward
it read so) 

I try texting 
and it sends 
To: someone else 

no reply 

In our silence 
We can talk forever 
But eternity's cousin 
is inbred with "I never" 

There's much
the perfect Christmas 
tree can fix 

even rootless 

But I'm not sure 
It's me 




Copyright 2025 G.D. Burns