Burn Emily Kell 2012
And after we
burn ourselves in effigy,
our cinders return to the road
smoldering by the spray painted squares
of lacquer yellow liquid cookie crumbs
like Red number 3 popsicle stains on the asphalt tongues
and I can see myself in the mirror of its pointed teeth
feel its sawdust in my heart beat, feel its
equidistant cookie crumbs as they hit the road
fallen from some pocket of some wild child
some Hansel and some Gretel
and perfectly imperfect.
from ecstasy to effigy,
from dust to dust,
is the same.
dictated by moons and flames
illuminated by black rock bottoms
motherless colorless children of age
with eyes of sage parched for truth.
flash flood, sand to mud, tits to teeth, vegan meat
me at the esplanade on a pedestal of my bloated self
this meticulous image we waste the clock to compose like an ever dissolving symphony.
when dissolving is the true form of evolving
and fit for the fire.
we turn we change
we spin, dwindle, and perspire
groping, fumbling, fucking on the cusp
of timelessness and wanderlust.
is it just me or do the rumble strips laugh like a western Buddha
nudging us, gently, joltingly, down our paths,
toward one inevitable conclusion
of unity that surmounts any degree of separation.
we are those ants
climbing the hairy hollow limbs of the million legged spider to trudge the insurmountable mountain inside her
we reach the top only to lose ourselves
because that is the ultimate goal
the last line in the books of all of our souls
you have to let it all go, have to burn your ego
before you can realize your part of the whole.