Solid Quarter

Blood Jet Poetry Series in New Orleans, weekly poetry and music as well as open mic performances

Visit Trembling Pillow Press for poetry books, broadsides, chapbooks, and Solid Quarter Magazine.

Visit New Orleans Poetry Fest for the annual 4 day poetry festival directed by Bill Lavender and Megan Burns.

Megan Burns' Poeticsofbone&city project on Tumblr

In 2019, this blog is being used to create the MS SERAPH, a channeled text that examines patterns, codes and analytics across social media and blog postings from the vessel.

Wednesday, August 14, 2019

Six Directional Guardian:: Eagle

tell it in stone
the winged carving
signal to expertise
ribbed to soaring, how breath
turned out to pull
bellows & the history of imagine
all we could do to the body
in the image of immortal
and we, never forget, the meter
of bones turned to feather, flew down
to kiss, wetted beak
at the back of it, bloodied
to take flight
take apart being human
turn animal
turn angel but not a word
yet wedded to belief
except underworlded
nine transitions
is a triple three
come father, tie me down
to the singing rock
where one day i'll erupt
the rapt dream of me
eat of my meat
& become monstered
we dance here now

what is addiction really
but the body's memory
of sacrifice kept us safe

i knew a tongue
i knew a language of safety 
look my angel, i wanted you to be enough 

Friday, August 09, 2019


the angel sd: build me an arc
bridged to portal
            the question was  how to move enough

            sound                 through the human body

i can tell you or i can show you                   a/home
        is a space where you arrive & feel belonging

              i made what was strange /to me/ familiar

                            look: i don't expect belief
in the madness i design to hook my way up
out of this veil, she says, survival pulls us up
to its task and it's true, that crack lighting
the dim crash

the well is lovely, dark and deep
i climb down like any animal
ignorant of the price to keep

for safe passage 
what you will be called to give
build me a vow 
to sing 
how many beings can you bring
towards hearing
& in the hearing, recall

it is absolutely true that i wanted more too
wanted to keep inside, lovely
this dragonfly 
i would you 

sometimes in order to survive your life
you covenant 
your life ::  the design reads: 


take a year to gather, what you make
& what you break, and what breaks inside 
you: when you reach the crossroad
 make sure you have clear channeled 
 enough to pay for your take

and all of my life
is the spelling of this:
i did what i said i would
not knowing the way it would translate
i know a bit about the way we interpret love
i know enough of my own
writing to know 
i would accept nothing less
than the turning of suffering into joy
come for me, i know always what i am
& what i am doing 
come for me 

i built a place to alchemy fear
and i set it to wing
pulled mask up from a mudding
now fly: 6 directions
there is no such thing as what 
we cannot do 
i read it into our coding
we who would angel 
are winged to interpret
doubt is not part of the mapping 

Thursday, August 08, 2019

(All form is beauty)

Angel is another word for addict.


i wanted to feel the soaring
air rushing
filling the hollow
where your wings
meet the body

i chased
that high
my whole life

what miracles
have you received
in this lifetime

poetry can stand in the place
of transmission, the mutual devotion
to relationship is a form of mystery
sound allows light to pass into form
what is it about adoration
that will break you open, break reality
i built an island of refuge, wanted you to see me
far more than i wanted you to reach me
the womb holds death inside us, blood letting
towards open the veil and the river too cervixes
my heart, we moved energy, tell me i was going to be ok
mother wolf: in the maw, carry where i ran under

"in the Kabbalah there are names for angels
that live in the intervals created by each harmonic"

listen, i won't stop being hungry
i don't know if it is possible to keep
a wave from crashing
on the shore

Thursday, August 01, 2019


" 'Eclipse' is related to the Greek word for abandonment"   -RBD, draft 82

outside of the poem, nothing
this story eclipses me
do i ever get to leave childhood
at the border, an edge designed to threaten
i was numb but wanted to appear
mostly intact. learn to shine

learn to pull up to love, where no setting for you
stands. and anyway, i go out on what rises
before me: i was the choice people made
breaking because hard exists only in relation
to what must bend because of it

space will consume you: the poem
is all i knew of safe, i built it out into places
to hold more and then that too abandoned me
it looked like i was leaving the way i framed

picture this truth, the soft ways we go under
is what undoes us. no one is listening finally.

i was invisible and thought being seen
was the path but it was seeing itself
love in this life is masked illusion
a child marked by a sign not yet translated
i did not want any life that came before me

i did not want this life before me
& that colored the hours most, they
flee from me that sometime did we seek
sought not, looked up as it darkens
the swollen spot where light pours in
not cracks, not fissures, but time
time itself we crumble under

i was outside it and never coming back

Wednesday, July 31, 2019

Kindness is a bargaining

Family Dinner

Kindness skirts the absolve, tender
love curtained, the way nice is handled
purpled in tones I could not remember
one day in the life of being so small
except windows, you look out empty

What is so real as the absence of sound?
the way I was gathered was wilder
taught we hold tongue tight
but affection is fluid, he says don't be
scared: Terror is a necessary fluid.

Only things temporary are precious.
where others built brick by brick, I found
my hands full of sand, grain by grain, each
numbered, look miracles, come in the way
you receive them. The back porch held us

in the summer, while New Orleans disappeared
we carved out too much dreaming and built this too
what we needed: And to be fed by love at every meal
what a life that would be: The blood jet is poetry.
Love is this desert: hot, dry, and endless.

Wednesday, July 24, 2019


i keep listening to the right angle
i mean angel, i mean this night
long houred i would cover my hand
with my mouth to fill up, screaming

you should have believed me
when i sd. we are not going to die
anytime soon, it was a long way out

the secret name we keep inside ourselves
and we-- always running from--
what are we always running from
how do you let go of something you love

is what we were practicing
held to do it consciously or not, we get
drugged under, we get taken back to where
we would cut off: go full circle

risen twice like a black moon
in a month where you washed away
i fell in love with a city i always knew
would disappear, and i fell in love

every time with someone dying
and i was dying and the sounds eclipsed
time folded, we could color it a horror show
we could tell any story we wanted
i was never going to be afraid again

imagine if one person pulled up
invulnerable and set to burn in unconditioned love
tell me the flame of that can't set the world ablaze
and i will show you miracles in a handful of dust
come under this shade, i will tremble down desire
life poured precious into an eternity of song

Thursday, July 11, 2019

i have made bargains

all of my life

i would sing to any one listening
look, is that the depth of surrender
give your life for a city
imagine the body itself
a mapping held double & every
street, a waterway and breath
inside me, let me tell you i feel
the fear of it, i could count for you
the way doubt is supple, the way loss
carves, being trapped will turn you into
a gnawing beast and here we would leave
the leg behind

here we would approach each other
the blood of torn limb make ups the grin
we are family in the way disaster will shore
you under so if you want to call me by name
call me under, call me inside
i can never be fully landscape
find me loose of a catch

basin: i was thrifted in lapping
water to the knee, water to the bending where you
meet it face to face: look me down
in the rainbow ways we called human
a soup of chemicals, an alphabet of ease, i deserve
to be happy, we told ourselves, at the expense of survive

we sunbathed on the roofs wrapped in flags
waiting for our personal escorts, we were led by
armed protection to precious escapes, we were
told why rebuild any of it in loving tones because
our value was intrinsic, this -- a story we gutted
this is the greed we tongue, all of us, not one of us
sacred or innocent, know this to be true
if there is terror in one time, there is always terror
tell me where to land in a world consumed by water