I incinerate myself
with my own gasoline, with my own match
with my own love, or lack of love.
My fire burns me
like a roasted skeleton, with one arm
reaching into the darkness, for what?
The firefighters will classify me
as smoking in bed
there’s no cigarette.
All of us are dying to know
what will set us on fire.
We are so wet
no spark, can catch.
damp, dreary, lives
with no hope.
We give fire to our insides, like an infernal suicide
reborn, from the ashes, of our phoenix passion
We can fly, like our sparks, floating to heaven
Hell reaches the gates of the Gods
crying-out, for one more chance
“I will avenge my enemies!”
If you strip-away
your tender tinder
like the barking mad bark
of a redwood tree
you bleed from the inside-out
a selfish sacrifice of dried blood
You warm the world
with your forest-fire passion, fueled by the ages of slow growth
all of your rings, burned up in an instant
of our material