Author Information
Fire on the ether
Folder:
Misc./Exp. Promethian eyes lipid as pools of red hot lava
Searing the beast within and without
Animal they say and nothing more
Quietly setting with tea, no more java
Reader of the words written to shout
Running forever to get to the door
Subtelty of countenance often twisted to an inane perversion
Deep within memory there but for the inferno's feul
Words scatter out mutely into the four winds
Passion, a slight element found to be a charmed diversion
They ask my station to life, reply is only "fire's tool"
On the quiet hill, the willow grows free and bends
Benjamin K. Badgley
March Thursday 04 2004
