August 27
Burning with Desire
You cannot stop the flames from licking me by telling me I am not on fire. For some reason you do not perceive the flames; you do not know fire. I cradle the desperate hope that you will recognize the ashes when the burn is done. By then it is too late for rescue, but the field is then wide open for regret. Resplendent is what I thought I was before the fire broke out. Now I feel like a misunderstood mansion torched to make way for a Walmart.
Dream your own dreams
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FUNK & WAGNALL’S BACK PORCH
Bottoms come sealed in envelopes
From unknown accountants.
Amazing how many nominees and how few winners.
The audience filled with past recipients
Hold their collective breaths.
They pray for this year’s finalist
And pray a bigger prayer
Of thanks to this years donors,
The ones who prove with their lives
That it hasn’t gotten better out there.
The speeches are the same.
A gratitude list and maybe a punch line.
The smiles and tears fresh but familiar.
When the lights go out on this night,
The days of diligence begin once again
So no one need loose their seat
And we can all celebrate here next year together.
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