365 Words For Brushfire
In this scenario an ordinary brush fire is purposely started
in Van Gogh's remaining ear. The combustible material
used to ignite the flame are fast-food wrappers
carelessly discarded by Siamese twins.
Late summer is the base-head
bandstand. A breeze
ruffling the trees
could Louis
Amrstrong laugh.
Hindus on a pontoon boat.
Then, a sudden late afternoon
shower pours like salt as the gallow
steps up to the hangman's noose. Nothing
makes sense in this unbridged version. Pills don't
know how to swallow. Cement never gets a
hard-on and the side order of bird's nest
soup have feathers in it or all Haitians
fly kites. This goes on for a few
more pages until someone
hiccups and passion
devolves into mere
whimsy or an
underlying
sense of pathos
recalling the best
hotels in Walla Walla.
You can write the ending
or just add cow's brain to the
head of lettuce. Either way, every
one eventually turns out to be a party
animal using their natural voices or nostalgia
paints its timeless portrait then casually walks
off unescorted to the men's room. Personally,
I prefer a button fly, or better yet, a
whole day as noir as night.
Maurice Oliver’s poetry has appeared in numerous national and international publications and literary websites including Potomac Journal, Pebble Lake Review, Frigg Magazine, Dandelion Magazine (Canada), Stride Magazine (UK), Cha Asian Literary Journal (Hong Kong), Kritya (India), Blueprint Review (Germany) and Arabesques Review (Algeria). His forth chapbook is One Remedy Is Travel (Origami Condom, 2007). He edits of the literary ezine Concelebratory Shoehorn Review at: www.conshoereview.blogspot.com He lives in Portland, OR where he works as a private tutor.