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Currajah

[a Walleah Press blog]

 

BILLY JONES

           Ignited

Fire

in the fingers

fire

in the head

heart & balls

fire

in the typewriter

fire

in the cold

tree buckling roar

of the westerly

fire

in the stuff called water

dripping from the kitchen tap

fire

in losing the best woman

I ever had to another guy

& wishing them luck

fire

in the pulse of the poem

running through whirlpool fingertips

into the keys like

tiny electric rivers

fire

in the way

the sun just broke through

a crack in the clouds

fire

at my sanctuary table

at the local tavern

scrawling a wild letter

not knowing anyone

or wanting to talk

fire

in the black stockings

of the barmaid with

the gold stud in her nose

fire

in the little pocket

of silence in the midst

of all that drunken racket

fire

in the freedom

of the flow

of writing

this there