Fire
in a crowded theatre
the one word not
to be played with
we melt
on its urgent tongue
Fire
on command
an arm goes down
red blossoms
against the white-
washed stone
Fire
in the hole
the frantic leaping
of fish after
a chemical spill
Fire
the messenger
who brings no message
only his own
unbearable company
fire in the belly – the spark that lights up the everyday – everybody wants some
You’re right. Maybe I should add a stanza…
You’ve executed four stanzas today. How many will it be tomorrow?
Today I trade in paragraphs and pictures.
Fire, fire, fire, fire, wastpaperbasket fire.
-Brian Dewan.
To say we stole fire from the gods is like saying the Trojans stole a big wooden horse from the Achaeans.
Sure we did, and sure they did.