Were my words on fire tonight
I would fetch water
so as not to explain.
A candle’s rhythmic intensity
magnified by darkened reflections
caught in the movements
of people cheering an evening’s ambiance
with lazy comments and tapioca.
Yes, a candle is enough fire for me right now.
Is it not true that books grow on trees?
I wish sometimes i could chew them
become nourished with meaning that way,
for I feel a need for knowledge in my body
of which I do not have to be held to aware.
Were my words on fire tonight
I would fetch water
so as not to explain.
Instead may I flute
like an amateur saxophone
through riffs as careless as tired children
lines pulling us back from limitless bounds
where wisdom surges
like the tempest of lovers in a crucible.
Were my words on fire tonight
I would fetch water
so as not to explain.
—Mac Crary