BRIAN REYBURN


Brian Reyburn is a writer of fiction, non-fiction, and poetry. He holds a B.A.
in Art History from University of Pittsburgh. He's the singer and primary song-
writer of the indie-folk band Her Ladyship. In 2018, he completed a book of
100 type-written sonnets (Sonnets of The Infantile). Currently, he's writing his
debut novel at his home in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.






The Beauty of Migration

Altogether beauty arcs with life.
The brown rice was cooked in milk.
Homeless on land but not in the sky,
the sea is both the sky and land,
a rogue to the weak and the sedentary.
Plea with all the force of echoed honor.
Kneel and I will kneel with you at the fountain;
and into the fountain crane your eyes by falling,
highly, falling with your voices in migration.






I Beg The Night

I beg the night to stay at my window
now that it's New York outside.
And in this game of sleep,
a mighty bell is silent as it feeds.
And there on a whistle hangs
he who awaits his dog's return.
I close my eyes to feel
and listen to the breath of a paper butterfly
in skies of Eden, seen,
when up through a glass umbrella.






There Were Drums That Day

There were drums that day
the sun was its own grave.
And someone called up to the clouds
"I am not yours to believe in!"

Clear to the fancy, clear to the field,
a home is an acorn collection.
Bring me to the miser and sell
Time to make some space for midnight.

There is a rain for the author to talk about—
a communist in what she calls
a uniform with her foot on the
pedal of a sewing machine.

Her mother was German and quiet
and she was the honor of that very dawn.
She was a dog in the circus,
truly woven into false belief,
and tossed and weathered in a bedroom.

So turn the cups and find the coin
of Death is under all three.
Oh, syrup of the hateful season,
the king is coming home to a mess. So stay
still as the winged-horse's tail brushes the grass.

As the bear climbs into its coffin
the stars turn inside out.
Have I really been sitting in silence that long?






One Last Word of Benediction

One last word of benediction,
a paean toward your efforts
and your courage in your coming enterprises:
I envy you, and I wish you well, simply and earnestly.
Come back a different person, and share with me
your fables and I will love you for it.
In my sleep I'll say an incantation,
to Hermes, god of travel, to wing your shoes
with safety, and with romance, and with
reassurance if ever it is wanting.



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