Fire-eater
fire-eater@riseup.net is a recovering writer/student/activist living in Portland, OR.
He can be found on his day off muttering to his ducks anti-civilizational Blake and Milton passages in his garden and greenhouse.
Are our tactics are joke?
a yoke
that we wear?
I want us to be ready to tear
from this Earthen affair
cut my hair?
I compare warfare
to ebb and flow, but you exclaim
“we must go toe to toe!”
I say “no”.
I’ll forgo
this phallic charade
I won’t join the procession
metallic parade
drafted not by number or draw,
there’s one flaw that I saw:
It’s that you hide from your face
and no one’s home at your place
you say “race” you say “mace” you say
“look what they do to our space?”
I say “embrace”.
It’s what’s needed from me,
to think spherically
in orbit
absorb it
contort it
wrap it up
fill my cup
(be patient) and wait, in love, for the rest to move up
there to your attic
it’s not automatic
it’s static schematics
and you sit there so smug with your
semantic inventions
and you just grin as you add to the tension
as if the rest who exist
require discomfort suspension
might as well mention the fact
you attack
with your fists when you’re pissed
and all I see is the balance that’s missed
seldom kissed
by you or another
I’m your brother
and I wish for you that
you had my mother
to lead you
we need you
I’ll feed you
wash your feet
please come with me and take peace to the street
that leads to a bride
in whom we’ll confide
the mystery that blisters
the hands of my sisters
my fathers my brothers
and all of those we call “others”.
wds
