Untitled By: L. J. Famespear Rodman Hall Art Centre

A fire, a fire

To build it without wire

or strings or anything loved,

or life’s desire 

Piling the uselessly dry, barren

hoards of timber, they linger

High upon that dark night’s

slumberous sighs,

slumberous

thighs; sighs of thunder

cracking my childhood dreams

with endless embers

and eyes of red veins,

speaking unkind commands

that burn deep into the past

the obsidian ophidian languishing

in the coals of remembrance

forever blackened with life’s edge.

 

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