Pilgrims' Portion

How many miles to Columbia?
Three score miles and ten.
Will she still love when we arrive?
Rest assured and don’t ask again.
How many miles through Umbria?
Three score miles and ten.
Will she deign be mine by candlelight?
If you throw a stone to see by night,
You’ll reach Columbia by candlelight.

How long must we navigate Umbria?
The shared lifetime afforded to you.
Will he still honor when we arrive?
In 42 years he will stay true.
Will his heart hold out for two score and two?
He’ll bear the burden with and for you.
Will he be my King and I his Queen?
If you swim like dolphins can swim,
He’ll care for you through land dim.

Will we bear fruit in a home of our own?
Your quiver will be full.
Need we defend our single fledgling flesh?
Athena will bless your soul.
Will we see our new Bohemia?
You’ll be blessed with la vie en rose.
What will our deeds and words be then?
If your hands are just and words are light,
Your progeny will arrive after candleligh

Intaglio

by
Brandon L. Sichling

The blank does not intimidate me
Because I know better, shrewdly,
Than to show it any fear
Other than of the failure
On which I’m about to embark.

I know the blank’s dimensions
And I know my materials (how)
And I know what I want to say (why)
And I am flabbergasted if I know (where)
They intersect.

When I am dead I hope
This rune will speak for me
To those I leave behind.
I hope it will strengthen me
To explain myself before God
Almighty.

While I am here I will fill
The blank with the idea
In my heart, pulling
It in and staining it with my inks
Pumped by desire and desperation
To create.

I know it will only leave me when I’m through,
Even though my signature adorns it
And makes it my responsibility.
Almighty will raise this point
And my void cast onto another
Will give me the will
And negate the inclination
To apologize.

I Can't Tell You

by
Brandon L. Sichling

Love is real, but it doesn’t exist.
It’s “there” because there is always
Where we fruitlessly seek.
Love is not here. Humanity declined
The honor of its presence.

My body exists, but it isn’t real.
It’s measurable, at 11.814286 stone,
A few colors, blue and hazel being the two
That matter, but mostly a tolerable shade of
Pasty, constituent clay.

My thoughts are broken, small things.
Occasionally I dream a few nights straight.
I dream and the dreams scare me
To Death & Equal Realities.

Love is real, but it can’t exist.
Existences start by screaming:
Babies, combustion engines, tea.
Love is only real in quiet places
With heartbeats echoing.

Existence, a tiresome long gestation
Love tries to punch through.
It’s trying so damn hard
I see it when I turn out the light.
I can tell you because it’s not mine.

I’ve seen gas burning in night skies.
I’ve looked into your iris.
Gas and fire: formless, but voluminous.
I guess the severity of your headaches.
Frustration is summons, declined.

Love doesn’t exist, but I know where it is.
I can hazard some measurements like recipes:
1 scream = x decibels
1 flare in your iris = x BTUs
1 orgasm is Love tearing into this world.

Looking Forward to the Night

I am riding home on the L tonight
I feel restful in the fading light
But I consider my fellow travelers’ plight
They look forward to the night

There is a woman sitting a few seats down
She was once a girl in this town
But she saw her mother’s debt and frown
Timeworn and poor and looking forward to the night

There is a, was a, white collar man
He had a future for himself, his family, a 401k plan
But that was before the Japan hangman
Broke and looking forward to the night

The El continues along its course
We passengers wish to scream 'til we’re horse
But enthusiasm, like self respect, is a dwindling resource
What choice have we but to look forward to the night?

There is a smudged child with choppy hair
The Parents unable to afford healthcare
But universal insurance would surely be unfair
So damn those with nothing but to look to the night

No more could I sit and be silent
Waiting to be the one to suffer affront
But when I left my seat and went to the front
I found the conductor only worked for those
Who buy those looking forward to the night.