|Nigerian Lobster Coffin, Institute of Art, Minneapolis, MN|
All fires are the same:
Spirit, quiet in the flammable
Til ticked off by some ugly word.
Or turned on by some
Beautiful young girl,
Some untouchable, unsexy young girl.
A flame lives silent,
All day hidden in dry bush,
As fallow fields,
But it returns as light
Like a dream begging for attention.
Your demon, your fantasy – fire is both.-
The Darkness Light Brings
but the half moon is high and white in
an early autumn sky.
It tells of a passing
from night into day,
and the spirit that lingers from dreams into waking.
Watching us, a second sun -
lighting a path from the unseen.
The light darkness brings