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Posted by on Jan 22, 2009 in Poetry | 2 comments

Untitled

 

Imagine that we ate an orange

and spit the seeds into our hands

drinking a cup of coffee

 

But instead of hair you wear fire

and joke about the ghosts and planets

you aspire to, inhabit or conflate.

 

I watch the flames grow dense

and spiral away in the dark;
a spark, a flicker and then nothing.

2 Comments

  1. John January 29, 2009

    Beautiful poem, jon. i came here today looking for your vietnam project but had to comment on this first. On the page it clicks through to, the last line is a separate stanza. i think it works better as the last line of the 3rd 3 line stanza. for what it’s worth, my 2 bits.

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