burn

 

 

What is it to burn?

My bodybuilding neighbor says

that I should feel it more in my

legs and chest. Until what,

until when?

 

"Till you burst", he said. But I

already have, burst,

from the often obtrusive

plunge of poetry. Burst wide open

like a seed; like Coco-Puffs of destiny

 

where I am allowed to anticipate nothing,

but learn well the smell of ten-thousand

combustable souls.

 

And so many times I have so entirely disapproved.

Myself. Have enshrined the demon with the demisec

that begs to be set free. Each time I envision the moon

forested in the closed thicket

 

or the sparrows covered with earth.

Or May mornings drug open by rain,

transformed by the trill of springtime/

BURNED.

 

As if an F-5 tornado can draw the straightest

Oklahoma line thru neighborhoods of old folk

and the errant dog dug from the rubble. BURST.

As teenage mothers gather to exclaim

 

how thier collective water's EXPLODED in hot kitchens

and then burned off,

dissipated by the suns warmth.

What is it to burn?

 

When the fires from the riot in 68 can still

be seen from the porches of the innocent.

And I will be better, I swear,

 

to thrash all of lifes sores

AGAINST the skin of the sky.

To reason outloud with the start of a kiss/ AND

to know love and loss by any other name

 

than fire.

Reviews

[Tree]

I would have a lot of poets annoyed with me (some here, most dead) if they were all the type to get upset when something they wrote inspired something of my own. I would consider it the highest honor, if another writer felt inspired enough by a poem of mine (or a style in which I've written) to then extend it, and make it their own. for who was it that said, and I'm paraphrasing, that nothing we've done is solely our own for we all stand on the shoulder's of giants? or something, to that effect.

Excellent piece, dana.

[Marie Anzalone]

I am reminded of the play I studied in college, "A Raisin in the Sun." All that pent-up anger and rage and no outlet, nowhere to direct it, that sense of now or never, do or die trying- the coming of the instant gratification culture, the when do I get my due, culture, the I will eat this anger as a 5 course meal and choke it down with tear gas, culture. And who can say what is right, any more? I sure as hell cannot, from my side of redneck land over here on one side, Native American justice-seeking on the other. Somewhere in all that pain, I think the answer is, we find breathing spaces and life-lines. We take the hand. We accept the kind word, we sit back from viewing the tornado on the screen or the beheading on video or the tsunami inexorably consuming the coast of Japan and we find breathing space. We find that we remember laughter and love and kindness even among the anger and sadness and hope and mixed despairs all together we feel will burst through our skins and light us all aflame.

As for being inspired by another writer... I see two reviewers on your page who have inspired me to write works of my own. When I get to know you better I will probably write for you, too. I thought this was why we formed writing communities?

Check some small grammatical errors, then consider publishing this.

[Emily B]

it is a gift, to find words like these on a day like today

caeser, i don't believe dana is trying to write like you, more of a 'hey, you inspired me so I put your name in the note" kinda thing

[caesarkreshen]

Must have been the bad half haha. I often wondered what it would look like if someone tried to write like me... if they could pull it off and I'd be like... nice, I see.

But this ain't it.

I don't know how I should take this, oddly. I am not upset, but I am somewhat surprised and want to ask where you are drawing this from.

[caesarkreshen]

needs more girls...

[h d e rushin]

please sir don't be offended. you're a pretty smart guy so the part that is 'like you' should be
read moreplease sir don't be offended. you're a pretty smart guy so the part that is 'like you' should be
the most obvious. The conversation, which is so difficult to pull off but you do with relative
ease and regularity. In every poem I have written to date, rarely does the speaker actually
speak to anyone else. So, you inspired me, in a counterclockwise sort of way, which I appreciate.
I can pull inspiration from anyone and anywhere...thanks for your review though.
dana

[h d e rushin]

ps: no need for more girls, just more conversational interplay...dana