Kevin Burke – “Love Poem for Amanda” @WANPOETRY


To those of you who have ever said that being happy and in a good relationship is the worst thing that can happen to a poet and their work. I’m sorry shut the fuck up Frankly you need to get out more or at least read a book like Walt Whitman’s Leaves of Grass or some happy shit you need to let the crisp autumn breeze take you. The warm lips of someone on the tip of your chilled nose thaw the cracked frozen lake in your gut skip rocks inside you make you shocked that you can still see your breath in the cold because you could have sworn they just took that breath away. Hold on to these moments Hold on to them like you hold someone under the sheets when the heater breaks and the only thing lighting up the room that night has the sparks off the L track just outside the window but goddamn you’re happy to be alive and warm and have this memory this melody this moment to hold on to now I’m not saying that you need a relationship to be happy that is why Netflix was invented I’m just saying I am just saying that the crooked tooth and her smile deserves an entire poem That her stubborn South Austin accent moves symphonies to drawl. See me and my girlfriend We make each other neon bar sign glow crack and buzz and pop we give each other sunrise every morning plant stars on each other’s cheeks at night open soft palms with 30 calluses for holding We work hard for each other y’all. We make it worth it for each other We laugh at each other’s farts, and if that’s not love than fuck everything We make me want to stand up at a table in a fancy restaurant Full of cardboard people on beige boring ass dates, and go y’all are fucking up Y’all just exchanged pleasantries and digest then have routine expected sex and repeat But I just boosted her over a no trespassing fence she just finished the stencil while I shook the spray cans. I put the pedal to the floor while she puts her middle finger to the law and the cash is flying out the back window in the cloud of dust and yes, this is hyperbole and yes, we do actually go to restaurants too Set to a lung top singing soundtrack of guilty pleasure pop punk trash in the middle of a Walgreens toothpaste aisle and side-eye from the staff she gives me life y’all gives me worlds gives me poetry every sly grin a stanza every wink a line every flutter a word She’s got lightning bugs in her laughter y’all blue bonnets in the soles of her feet When it feels like there’s nothing left to trust there is still this stillness the air between our lips, the ground, and the things she grows from it. She grows food and foundation, y’all I swear she’s got black dirt and rainwater in her blood so despite the holes drilled in like freckles and memories. The stories told in scars all innards brought out and every blood-soaked page I’ve ever written or read she reminds me that there’s more worth writing Y’all the page makes bloody into beautiful bloody into bloodier, but it can make beautiful into speechless She makes beautiful into speechless, into lightning bugs, into seeds on the wind makes it look fucking easy Happiness ain’t what’s bad for a poet y’all Closing your eyes and laying down your pen when faced with speechless that That is the worst

6 thoughts on “Kevin Burke – “Love Poem for Amanda” @WANPOETRY

  1. I like to write poetry also if anyone is interested. Sorry to advertise. Don't know how else to get my channel out there without paying for "AdWords" from google.

  2. for those of you who have ever said that being happy and in a good relationship is the worst thing that could happen to a poet and their work, I’m sorry, but shut the fuck up. Frankly you need to get out more, or at least read a book like Walt Whitman’s Leaves of Grass or some happy shit. You need to let the crisp autumn breeze take you, the warm lips of someone on the tip of your chilled nose thaw the cracked frozen lake in your gut and skip rocks inside you. Make you shocked that you can still see your breath in the cold cuz you could’ve sworn they just took that breath away. Hold onto these moments, hold onto them like you hold onto someone under the sheets when the heater breaks. And the only thing lighting up the room that night is the sparks off the L track just outside the window but goddamn you’re happy to be alive and warm and have this memory this melody this moment to hold onto.
    Now I’m not saying that you need a relationship to be happy. that is why netflix was invented. I’m just saying that the crooked tooth in her smile deserves an entire poem, that her stubborn south Austin accent moves symphonies to drawl, see me and my girlfriend we make each other’s neon bar sign glow, crack, and buzz, and pop we give each other a sunrise every morning, planting stars on each other’s cheeks at night, open soft poems with sturdy callouses for holding. we work hard for each other, y’all. we make it worth it for each other.
    We laugh at each other’s farts and if that’s not love then fuck everything. We make me wanna stand up on a table in a fancy restaurant full of cardboard people on beige boring ass dates and go “YALL ARE FUCKIN UP” y’all just exchange pleasantries and digest, expect sex and repeat, but I just boosted her over a no trespassing fence, she just finished the stencil while i shook the spray cans, i put the pedal to the floor while she puts her middle finger to the law and the cash is flying out the back window in a cloud of dust and YES this is hyperbole. and Yes we do actually go to restaurants too. Set to a lung-top singing soundtrack of guilty pleasure pop punk trash in the middle of a walgreens toothpaste aisle and side eye from the staff. She gives me life, y’all, gives me worlds, gives me poetry. every sly grin a stanza every wink a line every flutter a word. she’s got lightning bugs in her laughter y’all. bluebonnets in the soles of her feet. when it feels like there’s nothing left to trust, there is still this stillness. the air between our lips, the ground, and the things she grows from it. she grows food and foundation y’all. i swear she’s got black dirt and rainwater in her blood. so despite the holes drilled in like freckles and memories, the stories told in scars, all innards brought out and every blood-soaked page I’ve ever written or read she reminds me that there’s more worth writing. the page makes bloody into beautiful. bloody into bloodier, but it can make beautiful into speechless. She makes beautiful into speechless, and the lightning bugs and the seeds on the wind makes it look fuckin easy. Happiness aint whats bad for a poet, y’all. Closing your eyes and laying down your pen when faced with speechless, that, that is the worst thing.

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