The poet who holds fire in his hand
trembles
knows the scent of his own
seared flesh
writhes as the blackened
didgets bubble and seethe
feasts his eyes
on the urgent palm
flowering into the poem
already composing itself
within him.
The poet who holds fire in his hand
trembles
knows the scent of his own
seared flesh
writhes as the blackened
didgets bubble and seethe
feasts his eyes
on the urgent palm
flowering into the poem
already composing itself
within him.