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Submitted by orgami on 27 July 2007 - 12:15am.
three litres of gas splash out and run down through the pile
gloss photographs of freinds lovers family
monochrome moments
frost tonight and snow in the air
the limbs of the trees are active
i can hear the whitecaps down on the black lake
last to throw on are the poems
blue airline paper impossible to find today
crisp sheets of vellum
single spaced
years of work
nights mornings days
no prayer
no tears
a sharp rasp of a match
and a bright falling star becomes
a pyre
a beacon in the wind
the twisting trees
ashes lift full of dark red life
drift up into the thick evening
dwindling
in no time its gone
just that ragged chill
if i was a wolf i would have
howled
..O..
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a
“sharp rasp of a match”–i would give my right arm to have written that line. awesome.
Loved it!!!!!!!!!!
This made me feel as if I was standing right there watching as it all burned away.