Apocalyptic poems, posted every m-f.


a man cannot build a fire
without becoming intimate with it

tender arrangement of his most delicate splinters
he will court you –
set fire to the annals of history, the dead stoics
in an attempt to tease you from the woodwork,
gets cocky
tries to feed you the forest all at once
feels more shame than sympathy when he smolders you,
but is more careful with his next attempt

he will feel like a hunter
who is the opposite of a hunter – having
tracked you down and then brought you to life,
he will not help but be a father
even as he is your lover,
as he kindles your sex
stokes what comes of it
as he protects you
assures you that, rage as you might,
you can’t burn him down
he relishes your efforts, though
they are mighty
he made them

it will come as no surprise, i am sure,
that in the future, once the power lines have fallen
and the cities have crumbled,
that men will be better lovers

they will understand the process
by which one hunts: it is the opposite of hunting


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