A Perfect Fire
I only ever built one fire
Lowly burns a slow light beams log to log
Under lean moons
tarry shadows in the shallow.
O The hissing bark stammers light scatters in the jitter.
O The dryness of a lonely beauty in a bridled rage.
Old memory drags the weep night trains push through it.Hum and rumble lull and stone me
In the fallen silence in the space between
The creative hour and the dying swan