Abraham Burickson is a poet, essayist, and conceptual artist. His work has appeared widely, in such publications as Blackbird, The Painted Bride Quarterly, Time Out Chicago, Southwestern American Literature, and the Best New Poets 2008 Anthology. A chapbook of his poems, Charlie, will be published by Codhill Press in Spring 2010. Mr. Burickson currently teaches writing at the Academy of […]
Abraham Burickson
Abraham Burickson: At the Jobsite Friday is Barbecue Day
St. Agnes shouldn’t let her girls go but she does with shrieking bells and could be they planned the wind just for Sal: why they make them skirts so short! his eyes grey and hot like the barbecue burned too long, needs coal, Charlie pours some and maybe he’s embarrassed until Sal unwraps the beef […]
Abraham Burickson: The View
He figures the air’s there to carry words for her. Charlie sees it. Her voice shivers it, her voice: perfect, from a perfect body; no, imperfect: what wreckage her young body bore. You wouldn’t think. Those chlorophyll eyes that wash him, those hands, crushed once under a world of rocks. That’s the past: a heart […]
Abraham Burickson: Sundays are for Market, Sundays are for Park
Lobsters agape in big glass tank. Bread and milk and eggs on shelf. Bread and milk and eggs in bag. And Charlie’s getting Charlie’s groceries. And hide your eyes, tuck your hands. And coat don’t brush a banker; shoe don’t touch a father; don’t touch a husband father worker, don’t touch a mother wife walker. […]