Around the Fire

the swan
sits and knits
fangs

with these
pliers of
strange-veins

formulating
air-strands of papier-mâché gates
to walk through

and become
a name in the multitude of
sound-shapes

stay wide-awake—
standing in the embrace of
nothing to hold to

becomes a body
of a bird
half-man
thing

finishing explaining—
echoes
surround this room

country fried
chicken runs from
ideological confines—

lobbyists had Novocain inserted
in it till
adulthood, now
it proclaims, what

boredom-horror-show—
turn away
and face the undying mirror, erases

confusion between
data and reflection, language
embodies

the space
waiting inside an egg, yet
fully present

in the shape of these
caves, fire
in the center of each

burns fierce
works worms out of their crawl
talking heat

until laws are made in the image of
embers, what wood did, when
wood was

how it was participating
before it became
the hottest thing

since Hollywood,
sunshine
drain-pipes for school kids too tired to complain

to ears without skulls, to
walls without
human parts inside them, clumps

of newspaper for brains,
great tinder
for an uncreated space, take

these hand-shakes, each-
to-each
as personal as uniqueness

of your face, good
luck, learn to
sit or

go mad

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