Monday, December 10, 2012

A Poem by Chris Butler

Wild Fire

Fires run wild
across the dry countryside.

Orange glowing coals
roar with the souls
of the damned,
crackling like
the laughter
of devils,
whistling like
the wick of
imminent fireworks,
hissing with a
vacuum of oxygen
while bringing
the smoldering world
around it to silence.

Chris Butler is a twentysomething nobody shouting from the Quiet Corner of Connecticut.

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