William Burke is from Portland, Maine. He has two manuscripts, Exoatmospheric Kill Vehicle and Lord Sugar, under consideration at various presses.
We Are Entitled to Love Poor People
We are entitled to love poor people hung in autumn: Is there room for another hundred bodies in this field to rest like coal? I’d lower them like gold leaves. I wish they were fig leaves Or I wish they were an abandoned plant No longer clamoring for seasons. I wish they...
We Travel Like Other People
We havoc like other people, but we return in poopwear. As if parasailing Is the way of the clouds. Tonsils have burned out our loved holes in the snatch of the straw, beaten on top of roots of the trees. And we said to our wives: go on giving bitches to people...
