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The Burlington Beat began in June of 2017 and aims to be a small concentrated sample of the creativity that exists in every corner of our beautiful city, Burlington, VT. There are those who have made their art their living, others who treat it as a hobby--some who have been honing their skills for years and others just starting out. You'll find all of that here.


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About The Burlington Beat

© 2018 The Burlington Beat

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September 17, 2018


22 Countries + 22 Grooves

We’ve traveled the world of 22 countries -

Alaska the only unvisited blank spot on our US home map -

and we’ve ended up here.

Lifelong wanderlust

blissfully at rest.

For how long, who k...

September 17, 2018

engorge yourself

in a narrow, hollowed,

harrowing harbinger

of the pebbled unknown:

where do your nerves taper away?

do they derail themselves

off into milky granite,  

or do they find themselves


in the...

September 17, 2018

Go to the water's edge

for Amphitrite's re-birth

Look from the deep sea

up to the horizon and

then up to the sky

the sea calls me back in

my spirit begs

to be next to that peaceful vastness,

my eyes long for water...

October 31, 2017


In morning shine we bask

thick skin protects prenatal winter air

from eating my bones.

Zip from navel to neck-

Only in the Sun’s shine do I feel warmth,

even wool covered toes.

It is one thing to see seas...

October 31, 2017

Animal Art

There aren’t four seasons; there are fifty-two,  

and color and light’s changes mark that time.

Not seen enough of birds with light shot through

their over-hanging feathers, fierce like rhyme


October 31, 2017

Expect a high of eighty one

and a low of forty four

But is that low what is to come

or from the night before ?

Partly cloudy to partly clear

are they not the very same thing ?

A ten percent chance can appear


October 31, 2017

i read a story about mayflys

born on the banks

of the mississippi. they

swarmed and housed

in wisconsinite gas stations,

on the edges of bridges,

and only days later,

passed. just a memory.

i paid thirteen dollars



The worst part of November is the 

no.  Implacable – as in no more light

or at least a different slant of it

appearing briefly from behind massive 

bruised blue thunder heads

possibly laden with snow


August 17, 2017

Beautiful poplar tree in summertime,

You wear your black hair tied in a bun,

Your dark Sicilian eyes, sharp as an eagle,

looking out from your watchful face.

You remind me of the tall, taut trees

Of Southern Fr...

August 17, 2017

Snow White

She lies in a glass box

on display for her beauty.

Not quite alive, not quite dead.

The stasis of limbo is held above

and all around

her. Decorative glass enclosure,

she can see the outside and

the worl...

August 17, 2017


man made his nest

on a rail by the stop

to sit watch the kids

as he’s taking his drags

does he know I’m not one of them

does he know I’m not one of them

does he know about

getting found on the wrong side...

August 17, 2017

A Confession

Sometimes I think I could have been happy,

had I been born in the kind of town where

no one ever leaves.

Somewhere with an excess of open space and

a collection of creative ways to

kill time.

I like...

August 17, 2017

Black Velvet

Last night I fell asleep with my clothes on.

And my feet in my pillows.

I wrote half a poem on parchment paper,

And tucked it under the mattress.

I woke up in a bottle,

Like a moth who lost his way.


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