The language of fire

in a crowded theatre
the one word not
to be played with
we melt
on its urgent tongue

on command
an arm goes down
red blossoms
against the white-
washed stone

in the hole
the frantic leaping
of fish after
a chemical spill

the messenger
who brings no message
only his own
unbearable company

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Dave Bonta (bio) crowd-sources his problems by following his gut, which he shares with 100 trillion of his closest microbial friends — a close-knit, symbiotic community comprising several thousand species of bacteria, fungi, and protozoa. In a similarly collaborative fashion, all of Dave’s writing is available for reuse and creative remix under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 United States License. For attribution in printed material, his name (Dave Bonta) will suffice, but for web use, please link back to the original. Contact him for permission to waive the “share alike” provision (e.g. for use in a conventionally copyrighted work).


  1. fire in the belly – the spark that lights up the everyday – everybody wants some


  2. You’ve executed four stanzas today. How many will it be tomorrow?


  3. Fire, fire, fire, fire, wastpaperbasket fire.

    -Brian Dewan.


  4. To say we stole fire from the gods is like saying the Trojans stole a big wooden horse from the Achaeans.

    Sure we did, and sure they did.


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