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

of America.

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

how ridiculous

this meticulous image we waste the clock to compose like an ever dissolving symphony.

when dissolving is the true form of evolving

how ridiculous

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 death.

of disillusion,

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.