elizabethburnam

A poet’s natural habitat

1. Where I came from: A lightbulb sits in a cardboard box in the closet. It’s…

The lake is always gentle Erasing all the stone The trees are never bothered By birds…

I found the meaning of life on a flat sheet of granite at the top of…

pinecones float rocks go plopspiders squish under socks birds will sing trees grow roots nature’s things…

If I had a daughterI would teach her that they only burn the witch and not…

And it’s you, my hagfished phantom floating in your bubble room. I lick the corners of…

first yer daddy then yer mom play the creditstil they’re done eat yer veggiesgo to school…

Wash your hair every morning Even when you don’t think you need to Wash it every…

don’t pocket so serious or window too slow fly birdfully curious til hammers the stone cuz…

Here’s what they don’t tell you about poetry: every poem is about loneliness. Even poems about…

The wailing woman who dredges the lake with a broken branch looking for the body of…

Whoever named you didn’t know you like I do. They didn’t know the green you keep…

Finally found me(Here I am) Found my Lizzy In the sand She was buried By mistake…

To think—everything I’ve learned by nowand still what I wantmore than anything is to carry my…

Why do you play these games with yourself? Talk right. Listen with your whole body. You…

my phone knows the blue hollow under my eyes the freckle on the tip of my…

can’t stop poeminghard as tried lonely roaming til I diedcan’t give better less I got sent…

I’ve stolen whole bags of apples out of compost bins. I’ve eaten around the bruises. I’ve…

When writing a poem, the words are not the most important thing. Don’t look at them.…