Seasonal Works with Letters on Fire

Types of Fire at the Strike

T Y P E S O F F I R E AT T H E S T R I K E In the alchemist’s bowl, the dragon has three heads. Reality burns at different rates. Thousands of feet at the port—some wheels, some paws, some wings. Each gantry crane the bones of a Trojan horse. The day is finished; the port is closed. Some carry fire in red shirts. Some make sparks with their bikes. Some bring boxes of burning words grown from roots in the earth. Truckers with flaming decals on their trucks. Students climb crates. The cops try to behave but they have chosen the wrong life. The Furies retract their deal with Athena & go back to haunting the ships. Through violet dusk, the stars push from the start of time to many tiny planets without banks. Electromagnetism, stalled by the void, lit half of the universe first. Why? Gulls, looking for yummy trash, fly over freighters of plastic crap. Profit is not sage-green & blendy like lichen on the rails. In a crowd, the ego does not exist. There is a moment of panic when you lose your friends. It feels like when sex is over. Then they return. Light rushes to help & enters two of the dragon’s six eyes. You burn for those who are not here. You burn with those who are not here. When you cease to feel dread, odd spokes come off everything— 8 1 ...