Words on Fire V3E2

Words On Fire
Imagineers of Pyrotechnic Poetics
Volume 3 Edition 2
( for November 29, 2015 – January 9, 2016)

We Didn't Start the Fire


  • Peter Spaulding
  • sma river
  • Evelyn Elizabeth
  • Michael French
  • Denise Baxter Yoder
  • Portia Burton
  • Frank Ramon
  • Gianfranco Aurilio
  • Luke Normsy
  • Lisa Yoder
  • K. Leigh Thoma
  • Allene Angelica
  • José Coelho
  • Elusive Me
  • Alessandro Ernandez
  • Michael Veloff
  • Splaetos
  • Michele Johnson
  • Paul Chapman
  • Tim Clayton
  • Kristy Rulebreaker
  • Cherie Ambrose
  • Niamh Serendipity
  • Katya Mills

animated fire

untitled by Peter Spaulding

I keep my kids
for a few hoursThis time,
at their house
while she’s away

having been beat by my son to the other,
I go pee
in the back bathroom

In passing,
I can’t help but notice

His hat is hung
on the bed
that I built,
his boots beside it;

That’s all I’m going say about that.

No it isn’t.

Tell him to build you guys his own fucking bed, and to get his shit off mine.
if that’s spiteful.

Feedback and Forth by sma river
I bite the spoon and cringe
Clamping down
The taste of metal in my mouth
Like the blood I should be bleeding
What is dry
Drips through gritted teeth
My blue has
Pumped out fast
Long gone
On holiday.
Virtual succubus
Leeches, vampires, lampreys, mosquitoes.
Just poof
Love sits there
All saccharine smiles
A patient idiot
Waiting to
1000 iu at a time
Into open gut
Curdle nicely
Fester with your standard
Of parry
And bolt.
My pout presses together
Lipstick faded
A hard red line.
I won’t play
Here comes the airplane
Choo choo
No eating games.
No nursery rhymes either.
Screw Little Miss Muffet
With her whey
And wtf is a tuffet?
Or the old wench in a shoe
Dropping acid
Starving those kids
No government aide
Just broth
A deadbeat dad
Lack of condoms.
Peter Piper and his pepper
Little Jack Horner
All psycho spew
Chanted by eons of messed up parents
Wet nurses.
Old Mother Hubberd
And her bare cubboard
Or Humpty Dumpty.
Mother Goose my ass
I know your wish…
To spread it wide
With your large hands
Insert crazy
Hard and fast
Used jokes
Glass bits
Covered in
Whipped cream
And ’80s sitcom humor.
But you
My limped lover
Are decades and a day
Past expiration
Too rancid
For me
To consume.
Enjoy your tea
Pumpkin pie
Or whatever virtual mayhem it is
You pleasure yourself with
Most days.
This is it
Let’s sit
Have a cuppa?
Tea steeped
I pour.
Hand you a biscuit
Legs crossed
Long black booted foot dangling.
You raise a terra cotta draught
Admire my Fiestaware.
I notice.
Lovely weather we’re having today.
Vapor rises
Condensating on your cheeks
Don’t you
Your thyroid eyes pop
Tasting shit disguised as jasmine.
Now your turn to swallow.
Grave Robber by Evelyn Elizabeth
Men of solace
Men of duty
Have performed
to the best
of their ability
Callous hands
the cold curse
of Winter’s earth
so you may restWhile yet,
your heart beats –
The ground
must be dug
six feet deep
to bury your sorrow
that has seen
too many tomorrows
You assure and
thank the men
for a job well done

Let us gather
instead to
allow a ritual
in black to become
ceremonial white
Let your sorrow
take flight upon
the wings of a dove

And I question –
would you spite me
for a life not wanted
or would you love me
if I were to save you
from an early grave?

pirates of the caribbean
Autumnal Stars by Michael French
The autumnal stars Link Expectantly
with our sense of the closing of the cycle
Mercury slips and begins to fall back
and we wait for the changes we know are comingThis is the season of the Loneliest Star
The Hunter wears the Moon like a crown
The message is to remain quiet, learn
The Wolves are awakened, the Eagle stares

Transitionally it has been subtle, so far
Transitory describes more than the night
The illusion created for us, as entertainment,
As pacifier, begins to fail, veils lifted

The reality, trees know better than to resist
This co-perception meta-indoctrination
Is swept aside by a Bears paw
and trampled under the feet of a Horse

And what of Man? and his feeble attempt at Fire?
Would that he attempt to unhook Polaris
And write his own stories in the Constellations
The Mythic and the Eternal are one and the same

skateboarding kitty
untitled by Denise Baxter Yoder
Someone sleeps in the deep
Not ready to open his eyes
Not ready to unleash the power he keeps
He likes this rest in the dark
Dreaming of what lies beyond
Rolling from his still form
Waves will rise to thrash the surface
The time will come for tridents and tyrants of the sea
Til then….I will sing a siren song
trippy flower
A state of Being by Portia Burton
I don’t know  what  came over me,
While holding a friend close to console her,
I started feeling boundless love for her,
And then I had a strange feeling
That if any other girl would had come
Into our hostel room  at that moment,
She too would have been included
Fully in this nameless love.
I suddenly realized love in its essence
Is deeper than the mere  personal level .Now the reasoning ‘I love you because . . ‘
Made no sense at all.
I had even ceased to be concerned about myself.
Nor any  longer anxious about my friend,
No more critical of her embarrassment,
Not ruminating about the past and future,
Or making any other gesture of thought
Or attention that separated me from her.

It was enough for me that we were together,
And our love,needing no definition,
Was actually a state of being.

Black Cadillac Blues by Frank Ramon
July went by the board
October did the same
stolen by a kiss
missed November eased
away my pain
but I wonder
where you’ll be in April
when cherry blossoms
lie on the ground
what I wanna know is
will you still
be coming roundyou came with gypsy rings
I had some stones of gold
we took them to
the fortune teller
to see what kind
of fortune
could be told
she said fortune
is a strange mistress
sometimes she gives
sometimes she takes away
but with the moon as her thief
she can’t steal the sun

Black Cadillac
took you to the plane
tried to say goodbye
and it was hard
but no tears fell
just the rain
and the rain
she’s a life giver
she falls and all
the gardens spawn
but There’s one thing
she can’t deliver
a message from
the one who’s gone

Lighthouse on the shore
beacon for the ships at sea
when the swallows
return to Capistrano
you won’t be
coming back to me
and I remember April
when cherry blossoms
lay on the ground
pictures hold
your face now
but you won’t
be coming round

tennis shoe
The Clouds of November by Gianfranco Aurilio
In November
when the storm
is passing
and the blue
regains the sky,
the last clouds
sculpturing linger.
Huge figures
of restive horses,
mighty bodies
of wrestling athletes,
graceful faces
of dancing girls
and while the sunset colours them
and dresses the sky with fantasy
my eyes smile
sculptured in beauty.
the circle by Peter Spaulding 
It happened again
as it has many times,
before todayI’ve seen it often
around bar ambience
on various liquids;
in hallways
and cafeterias;
at the parties
I went to, obliged
with packaged cigarettes
and dinner tables,
around the edges
of 14×20 pools.

The event unfolded
as it always does
with glib smiles
and handshakes
followed by
a series
of fortunate chuckles

This time, they gathered
amid sawdust,
muddy lumber
at their feet,
a mountain’s landscape
and a house
down the hill,
of ridiculous wealth

I could hear them,
understood it
as language,
but they spoke
in blurry 1s
and 0s,
slurred lines
behind slanted

I return
to my place
outside the circle

burn book
Aphasmophobic by Luke Normsy
As a child
I was terrified
of ghoststheir translucent
mangled forms so
motivated by
terror and rage that

they would
(I reasoned)
come for the
living as we

and do us
some unspecified

but they
don’t scare me

if everyone
who passed
with pangs
of guilt, plagued
by their sins,
victimized by
life’s great wrongs

were to return

there’d be
more ghosts
than men

the air
foggy with
them, our

clothing soiled
by their

the din of
their rattling
chains making
it impossible
to hear the

or concentrate
on credit card

or hate myself
for eating all
those cookies

or deal with
any of the things
I am afraid of

She is My Bitch (Sequel to “Bitch”) by Lisa Yoder
I met a manipulative little bitch last night.
She looked an awful lot
Like meI did not meet a stranger
I have known her a while
Though am unable to remember
The moment I first met her


Its more like she insinuated
Herself into my very being
Sans my knowledge or permission
Causing hurt feelings
And chaos
Always leaving me
To pick up the pieces
I was ashamed of her

It occurred to me one day
That i looked at her
more kindly
Though I’m not sure
when that happened either
But I began to realize
She tried to look out for me
Speak up for me
Take care of me
In a world she saw as desperately
Cruel and unkind
While I stay oblivious and numb
In near fatal addictions.
I owe that bitch my life.

She does not visit me as often
The older I get
The wiser I get
The more awake I become
Yet she still watches out for me
Especially when she sees
I’m afraid or hurt or angry
She wants to intervene
Tip the scales in my favor unfairly
Pouting or flirting
Illiciting guilt or pity
An exhausting list of tricks
It would make your head spin
And unless you have an inner bitch
You wouldn’t understand

These days, most days
When I see her
I just smile and say,
“I got this, Sister.”

angela bassett coven
winter abstract by Michael French
The landscape keeps cluttering up the road
What it lacks in variety
it makes up in edgesI don’t want the real world to intrude here
There should be a thing that does not care
about us, or what we want
It sculpts as it pleases

In a couple of ways
The night of seasons
Those last couple of hours
after the moon sets
Really, Really dark

The history is sad
The myths are built on cycles
Wheels turning on layer after layer

We are the only thing that ends
I imagine giving myself over
Taking that walk
To accept that sleep

Try by K. Leigh Thoma
I try hard to find the best
In all I am witness to
I glory in my friend’s good fortune
And tend to wallow in my solitudeI ache with all my feelings
I love with my open heart
I try to hide my crumbling face
So as not to fall apart

Queen Latifah
The News by Allene Angelica
The dark
Seductively called her name
She welcomed its comfort
With opened armsHe’s dead

In the cold
Dank blackness
Of her mind
The news
Like a heavy stone
Spiraling down
Into grey gloppy matter
Leaving both
The sensations
Of devastation
And elation

She huddled
Fetal position
Face buried amid
Elbows and knees

Hands spotless
She was pleased

Wild eyes
Staring through
Inky skies
Sparkled with
Starry hope

She didn’t have
To tie the rope

Between them
The dropped shoe
They both knew
Was due

The corners
Of her bow shaped lips
Into a feral grin

She will celebrate
With her old friends
Tonic and Gin

He’s dead

surfing on fire
Tulips and Cheese by José Coelho
a hundred times the pen
slipped off the paper as quitting or skillfully
drawing a fugue. meanwhile the traveler
announced another change of direction followed by
a streamed woolen ovation recorded by supporters in the antipodes
translation occurred simultaneously into four main idioms
nevertheless nobody zoomed in for more than a few
seconds. and so the speech remained
restlessly livingtwo
by the end of the road they said
the trees were finally disclosed. that’s when the ship’s
howling snore was heard each time deepening
the blue of the sky and a small sheep’s herd
waved from above. the river
innocent and quite
steamed as always during winter time
people got stressed due to sparse
daylight syndrome
even dogs. today inside the bus a man almost got bitten
by a dog. he looked old and nice
no one was hurt!
and their present continued

the air is translucent; birds are chirping

the smell of honey and coffee beans exists somewhere
for real. while I cross the street
time changes and gets delayed. the pen amends
the forgotten write. night left overs detach from bodies
as dust
particles fall from cloths – green, orange, red – and last
autumn leaves swallow
certainty is a vague thing wind-spread along
western sidewalks. as bones
melting on a Christmas eve
your eyes
close one last time before embarking
into the trustworthiest feeling. then
becoming lips

I stand up gutted. everybody’s hasting
to be in time; to watch the traveler you don’t need
to leave the coziness of your couch. however
it is required that you face the same direction he’s following
if you close your eyes, the landscape
will unroll and flow
as sublime a story would

can’t be!

harry potter mermaid
Tethered by Lisa Yoder
Oh, pray tell, what madness
Would cause a fair lass
To tether herself
To that beast
That mauls her to death?
queen of the damned
Onion by Peter Spaulding
the dog didn’t care that I smelled of onions,
nor did the stew,
but the fact is that while the stew
didn’t miss me,
when I saw her standing
at the gate of my old house,
my dog’s eyes spoke of loneliness,
and the not-understood
sorrow of abandonment,
as she soaked in the touch of my hand,
which settled into soft, white
around her ears,
and on her cheeks
and on her canine
head.either way,
something prompted the watered eyes.

I miss her too.

coldplay paradise
Embrace by Elusive Me
A sheer veil
Falls from the sky
Illuminating the day
As first morn’s light
Her eyes, glistening
Her lips moist.
As you pull her into you
Exhaling the velvet night
With your warmth
You greet her
Like a gentle waterfall
Washing over
Her heavenly body.
Her giggles ensue
Shaking off
Like a lingering lullaby
She floats
Before you…
A goddess
Whose beauty is captured
Within your mind
Her light shines
Solely for your eyes…
She breathes, only for you.
Caressing your horizon
In purest love
Her heat
Builds in your atmosphere
As you cradle her soul
Within yours.
Ethereal bodies,
Like stars colliding
And dying once more
All within the nothingness
Cherished between heartbeats
And hypnotic
Upon the shore
Of eternity.
Such love
Is unable to be contained.
Boundless in energy
A fusion of all that is good.
Where once darkness
And light
Were separate entities,
Now a synergy has begun.
The journey
Of us..
Is infinite
untitled by Alessandro Ernandez
You have rewritten my life
Colored the world
I realize
Only now
Even the most wonderful things
I’ve lived
Aren’t that far out of
What it is

untitled by Michael Veloff
The theme song of my youth was whistled
They Live
is We R Theya long romance with innocence
in the Blink of an I

Yet if We are They
and Them R Us
couldn’t we Even
but that’s for mortals
and so am i

The Hunt by Peter Spaulding
It moved with languid stroll
and clear intent,
like a predator borne on waves,
fin erect,
and unconcerned
with its visibility,
for beneath its surface lurked
a barely tamed,
electric power,
coursing and frothing,
that would soon set itself free,
to a degree,
from the restraints beneath its skin,
to detain her in any attempt she would make to flee
and to enjoy its conquest—
It could sense the blood
lurking beneath hers.No witchcraft words of hers
would chance to save her.
Her magic, while strong
and enticing,
held no sway
strong enough
to belay its course of action.
She could sing incantations
wrapped with clouded hexes
the entire night long,
pummelling his chest with words of power,
beseeching him to cease
with half-hearted pleas—
indeed, these only served to keep
his attention rapt.
In the end, she,
will crumble beneath the unharried,
emphatic, intrepid,
lupine confidence of his self-assured and brazen siege—
She hunts with lures;
he hunts with his whole being—

It, he, I,

The unmeasured, liquid step
has already calculated its goal;
the gleam of its eye
has already foreseen
the outcome of its prey
with the accuracy of liquid crystal ball.
The indifference assumed,
is less that, than a certainty.

It approaches comfortably
with relaxed, liquid prowl,
stalking the huntress in you.

She finds herself supine,
incantations given way to the cool, incandescent
spot light
of his feral grin—

The full moon pales in comparison.

captain barbosa
Tomorrow by Splaetos
Days while ‘way their hours
under threat of years.
Potentates—endless seconds
full of terrifying promise,
desperate for the proper care,
quietly insinuate their needs.
They turn their backs
and demand my absence,
silently commanding my approach.
They melt at my touch,
welcome my embrace—
they ride me into the night.
In the morning,
I wake to an empty bed,
swept clean by the incessant
beeping horror
of my incrementing alarm.
chrome firefox ie
Magic by Michele Johnsen
I never believed in sweet souls
Yes, I knew there were kind souls, true souls, strong souls … YesBut a sweet soul…
One that can change the very taste of the world
That can make painful memories easier to swallow
And all my wishes for the future more delicious …

Now I know
Sweet souls are only found by a few …
Those of us lucky enough to receive a gift in a magic box
And yours is the only one that has ever touched my lips.

unattainable flower
Pattern in the Piecing by Denise Baxter Yoder
At night before I close my eyes
I see the stories of simple lives
In a quilt my mama gave me
Putting memories in place
With calico and bits of lace
It warms me until morningTiny stitches filling in the fullness of time
Patterns in the piecing….a patchwork design

Lord bind the blessings that my mama knew
Lord bless the work now it falls to me
With needle and thread
May my own young ones see
There’s a pattern in the piecing of the lives that we lead

When mama gave this gift to me
she gave a piece of history
A rainbow made of tatters
When days were short and winters long
She sewed until the light was gone
Ignoring all other matters

Tiny stitches filling in the fullness of time
Patterns in the piecing….a patchwork design

Lord bind the blessings that my mama knew
Lord bless the work now it falls to me
With needle and thread
May my own young ones see
There’s a pattern in the piecing of the lives that we lead

Curvature by Splaetos
With witchcraft in her walk she grips
the neuron flow and hormone drips
that bind me to a blank impasse,
ensuring that no words will pass
my animatronic lips.
Whilst time and space relationships
are harried by the fellowship
of sweet and swagger in this lass
with witchcraft in her walk…
the vestige of my ego trips
with each and ev’ry sand that slips,
like luscious grains of silk and sass
betwixt her swaying hourglass—
she coaxes my apocalypse
with witchcraft in her walk.
night snowboarding
Winter by Michael French
A still cold moon shines but so far is empty
A cycle needed before the turn complete
Nature, however finds reason aplenty
Lunar phases not the signal for retreatAnd we in houses and cold technology
Turn away from the message over our heads
We are convinced a different mythology
And defeated the nighttime of chills and dreads

The stones we erected feel hard and secure
The fissures all filled in and immune from harm
Once again have faith it can and will endure
And time, once again, is a force we can charm

Workmen wait patiently their season will come
Our Poets and Gods in their hour, succumb

Extra Extra by Luke Normsy
The news always comes
on a rainy daythere’s a $10 lunch
special at the
strip joint

shortcutting through
the slums, their trash-
strewn everything

I like to visit for
the realism which
is worse than ignoring
them but not so bad
as pitying them

a telephone pole advises:

well trust has to be earned,
now, doesn’t it?

the phone rings
with the latest report
of where the cancer’s
spread: bones, lungs,
liver, kidneys; the DNR,
maybe a month…

I should be inured
by now

not sure if wishing
God would hurry it up
already is for his sake,
mine, hell maybe for

yours, you ready to hear
about pills and dull
bosses again?

‘course he’s known
for being late for
everything, birthdays
graduations etc.

so it stands to reason
he’d make Death wait,

meanwhile some bum
sifts through gutter filth
for cigarette butts

good luck

this being a rainy day

on which news
has come

White Paper by Paul Chapman
I show you a sheet of clean white paper
And on the sheet there is a miniscule  mark
On the pristine perfect whiteness
What do you see? I ask
A stain a blemish
For we focus not on the pure innocence of the white sheet
But we look at the small  imperfectionI show you a man
What do you see?

Composed as I Dream and Wake by Michael Veloff
your Lilith white smile moonlit clad
stabs me to the marrow
the jolt of your heartless laugh you close with
as I close this cabin door
finishes all that I have left within me
as I spy my lonely footfall
through the frosty glass
in this cold place you have left behind
rock climbing
untitled by Tim Clayton
We’ve all looked over the edge, into the abyss.
I fell.
Damaged and broken
It took months to climb hand over knuckle
Back to the top.Is it ever nice to see you all again.

hold on to something by Michael French
Look up
look up again
you are looking in a different direction
you are looking while riding
on a rotating ball
moving through space
at 20 miles
a second
spinning at about
a thousand miles an hour
give or takeup is relative
same for down

what else do you know?
feel sure of
tell me about the plan that has been revealed
explain how it makes everything clear
Those directions laid out
what to do and how to do it
who to love
who to hate
what to fear

tell me the absolute truth

at least
show me which way is up.

All Over Again by Kristy Rulebreaker
Is there some poor guy
who wants to take my old days?
I am giving them for free todayToday I am starting all over again
as if a spaceship for Christmas I got
and I can travel wherever I want

I see, there is no poor guy
who wants to take my old days
It doesn’t matter, I will put them
in the old, unvisited closets

It doesn’t matter how fast it is
the sorrow won’t catch me today
It doesn’t matter how fast it is
I will catch the happiness today

Teach Me by Lisa Yoder
To appreciate beauty
Without greedTo love the ocean
Without drowning

To feel the earth
Without burrowing

To feel the sun
Without burning

To love
Without dying

For all that ever moved me
Seemingly I sought
My own imprisonment
Within it

My Goddess My Mystery
Teach Me……..

Ass Gems by sma river
Trying to source your words
A spray of carrots in the kitchen
Can’t place them…searching…Odysseus-like
Nope. Not a trace in Medusa’s undulating tresses
Nor Ahab’s whale
Or Kerouac’s car
Or Virginia’s room of her own…
Ah, there!
I smell something
Down a ways
Past the mindfuck slipstream
And primordial ooze
(Glad I made that left turn early at Uranus or I’d be
So damn lost)
Straight past Andromeda
Pause to read historical marker
Commemorating site of the Big Bang
A short coffee break with that Looney Tunes little basturd Martian.
Cool guy actually. But big time trash talking Bugs Bunny.
And just then the Dude
The Big Lebowski floats by
Smiles at me
Spilling his white Russian
Jelly shoes dangling.
Next I pass
Pink Floyd, Hendrix and every trippy 60s, 70s band
You ever listened to
(Lol was that Prince they were ignoring?)
While watching the Wizard of Oz
Or rereading Alice in Wonderland
Or Mein Kampf
And of all people
Bumping into James Joyce
(James, I really hated reading your shit, though I know it’s supposed to be good for me)
I sight Vonnegut in the distance
Just standing there
Waiting for Godot
Beyond that star cluster
Past Dickinson’s smirk
And Angelou’s gaze
Yes! Found the trace!
Over yonder
To the WC
The loo
The original Satellite port-a-potty
The John
Serviced by Satan’s Sanitation
Word crumbs…evidence
Here’s where you found them
Just before they could dump
Into God’s platinum latrine
You reached one rubber gloved hand
And pulled them
Proctologist style
Out of
The big galactic asshole
So to speak.
Snake Charmer by Cherie Ambrose
how did you get here?
rain dribbles on grimy streets
as the snake around your neck struggles
scaring yet captivating othersmesmerized, zombified people follow you
traipse around your aura
and feed on the thrills,
compelled and repulsed

I watched your snake charmer’s show
last week while I gaped at your affronts
and wondered who you duped and screwed over
to get where you are

your belly dancer friends startle and amaze
while your train carouses the avenues,
neighbors follow you aimlessly
no doubt fed to fullness with your presence

you use and abuse your shell game friends,
letting them do the dirty work,
as you flick the blame off your oil slicked feathers
and the snake flicks its tongue

you stop short and blink in shock
as I stare you down in the street,
the snake evaporates and you cower,
I ask you again, how did you get here?

Share Your Pride, It’s The Essence of Humanity by Niamh Serendipity
Some times in my life, depression felt like it was the worst
Set off to university, to learn a subject that I chose
Picture my surprise when I turned out with a First
Imagine my pride, about the heights to which I rose

Back to the real world then, I took a first degree with me
Working in an imperfect system, designed to aid the poor
Helping the disadvantaged, much real suffering there to see
Give of your best to society, this social worker does implore

Economy describes saving, yet wealthy humans should their surplus spend
For sharing shows you are caring, that’s the finest ‘Trump’ card in the end!

Convention of Ghouls by Luke Normsy
We hold little
nowpackets of far-flung
relatives come
to sit with the

make strained
conversation around
the body



we’re in jeans

the dead
gets a plate and
to weigh in

and nobody talks

about what it is
we’re really doing

fine thanks


good to
see you

too damn typical by Michael French
people writing about their dreams
as if…Mine was getting a call in a movie theater
(hate it when that happens….)
It was my Father

He asked how I was doin’
“Ok…. You’re dead..
Have been for twenty years”


I guess that explained some things

Anyways, turned out he had heard
about my Step-Father passing
Called to say he was sorry…

“…’preciate that…tell me something…
What’s it like…..where you are”

(Trying not to make too many assumptions)

“Ok…kinda’ weird…like a warehouse
but not organized…you know?
Like somewhere with really crappy phone reception
and people keep trying to get or make a call
but…most of the time…..”

And right then the signal failed…

Occurred to me I don’t have his number on my phone
…don’t think I ever did

For the life of me……
Can’t think of any point to this…..

‘Cept maybe…turn off your phone
when you go see a movie….
Paid good money for that ticket.

Boxes by K. Leigh Thoma
How obvious
I color within the lines
I am bound by the size
of the boxes
they give to me
I fill them just so
I yearn to fill the empty
with colors and rainbows
in the end they just cover me
with x’s and o’s.
you cannot fight her. she’s the ocean. by Katya Mills
i went to the ocean and crashed into a giant wave; it was like a slate wall, transparent green. i had only a white undershirt on when we collided and black boyshorts underneath, and the wave did not hurt but it slapped and broke into many liquid particles which could not be traced but pulled my hair down and stuck to my face and neck which felt pretty good, and beneath me everything was undulating with a calling, sucking motion, calling me, fizzing, and i was not scared though i was unlike the giant scaly bodies underwater, deeper out; i knew she would not hurt anyone unless they fought back, you cannot fight her she’s the ocean. i did not break in my black and whites, in the rainy day greens and blues of the undertow, i just stayed together and let the ocean cry and pull me, and the salt to dry in the bubbling nest of spit and foam. i went with the ocean and i guess i disappeared, i mean the earth did not know me, nobody looked for me, or if they did they did not find me, but someone missed me, somewhere, i just know it. i could feel them and saw them in my routine kelp readings thereafter. Mostly it was my family, so far away but still caring and loving me a lot, maybe more than i would know, the otters suggested, teaching me the art of cracking mussels. i lay my head on a current, listening to the ocean, and traveled to new lands never before known, in a sea bubbling like soda, the many colors peeking up off the crests of the waves crashing inward far from us on the inside looking back to the shore, and the earth now was scary, dropping off of the level, and the sky quite unfeeling, unhelpful at best, but we didn’t care… and i slept peacefully, peacefully, there.
End Notes
BigUps & Much ❤ To All Contributors. Remember: the poet tree will be streamed…so, let’s forever indulge in the balance of delicious agony and suite ecstasy of our everlasting leaves, always writing what the moment recommends to infinity and beyond. Till next time, Write On/;-)
Much ❤ to The Magnificent Seven [Moderators/Co-Owners/Co-Editors]:
RC deWinter
Chris Flegel
Uma Venkatraman
Mary Macharia
Arthur Turfa
Frederick Andrew
Michael David Saunders Hall (aka the 21st Century Griot)
music clef
©2016 Words on Fire


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