Volatile Vacillator

He was dead, alright.
I should know: I killed him,
then rejoiced that it was finally over.
Yet
he always came back for more.

That smirk of his
ignited my fury; fanned my flame.
“You’re dead,” I said.
“Like that matters. You’ve killed me before.”
“But I watched you incinerate while I dodged your daggers.”
“The ones that pierced through your heart?” he asked
with regret. “Oh no, I made sure they hit their target.”

That look! How it shifted the coals upon
my heart.
Fire
blazed
passion,
killing all shame.
Desire now coursed my veins.
Such rapturous Fire!

We put down our weapons;
the killing was done.
Doing what we did best,
we became
one.

This Beautiful Mind is Bright: A Mirror Image of Gertrude Stein

A tribute to Stein’s “If I Told Him: A Complete Portrait of Picasso”

by Jenifer DeBellis

Sunshine, hey sunshine, sunshine hey;
you’re bright. You’re bright sunshine; bright sunshine you are. Are you?
You are.
Does little Johnny Nash know he’s bright? He’s bright; bright he is. Is bright Johnny Nash, Jr. still little?
No.
Not little?
Little not.
Not.
Not odd odd not.
Not odd. Not. No?
Arithmetic adds subtracts numbers. Integers are problems. Problems are integers: numbers.  Subtracts arithmetic, arithmetic adds. Adds and adds and adds and adds. Solutions; sets of values.Values set the solutions. Values set, set you see. See you seeing you seeing me.
You see me?
Set.
Value you seeing me.
See values.
Set.
Values of set solutions. Society’s set of values…do they satisfy the set of given inequalities?
Inequalities.
Given inequalities.
Inequalities given John Forbes Nash, Jr. Johnny Nash given inequalities and inequalities given sum. Sum of the parts must equal the whole. Whole, the equal must part from the sum. Sums and sums and so and so, parts are whole. Whole inequalities are summed. Summed up as a whole.
Brilliant!
Brilliant sums the parts. Whole parts can’t sum the image. Image image and image of image.
Image sum can’t part; its whole parts can’t sum image. Image is brilliant. Brilliant is that
image sum. Some parts whole, yet whole parts none.
None.
One.
Not one.
Two.
Two for one.
Then none, or one. Eleanor: one, was one; two. Two one was, then one was three. Three can’t be, can’t be three. Three! Three’s an inequality. No sum. No sum is three. Three can’t be. Be three?
One.
Silence.
Formulate.
Formulate formulas. Formulas formulate formulas, so formulas can formulate. Must formulate so formulas can formulate.
“Formulas first.”
Who said formulas first? He’s after him, he is. Is he after him? He is. He is is he after him and after him is he? He?
Who is he who’s after him? Who’s after him? They’re after him; they’re all after him.
After him they are.
Are they?
Silence.
Sweet silence.
As silence is sweet, silence is.
As winter sun.
Has winter sun. Sun winter has. As winter has sun. Sun has.
As winter sun.
Brilliant.
Brilliant and bright. You’re bright sunshine. Hey winter sunshine, you’re bright.  Allow me to say what’s in a beautiful mind. A beautiful mind.

Confessions of a Pyromaniac

The Incineration of…


So often, leaving well enough alone is better said than done:
    No sooner has a fire been reduced to a smolder
    someone comes and scoops up coals from underneath the rubble,
    making a new fire next to the one near extinction.
And while that new blaze is being nurtured into life,
    hot air is blown in just the right amounts and tight places.
Not only does this new fire now take flight, but the one
    reduced to nothing is now flamed back into existence.


Now, two unwanted fires blaze with such glorious faces.
New kindle is added to this new conflagration:
    what a kaleidoscope of color this new monument makes;
    how entrancing are those flames as they greedily partake.
Such treasured family heirlooms are now burning at the stake.
One’s precious articles are added for good measure’s sake.
Followed are the items closest to fondest memories.
Why not add the forest to the mountain as it bakes?


A bonfire’s not complete without some added extra fuel:
    as the golden rule assures, just a drop or two will do.
Crackle, crackle, pop: fuming flames now grasp at hungry air;
    spewing their spawn offspring seeds into a fragile world;
    searing silken flesh as they unearth their common ground;
    branding their territory by marking where they now land.


Now, since the fire’s all-ablaze, glowing strong and bright
    I’d like to add my own things and lighten up my load…
       First are all the insults, they really have to go.
       Next comes all the broken things hidden from the light.
       Let’s not forget the hurtful stuff buried with the trash;
          the items next to bitterness and harsh cracks.
I think it’s time to lose those red-hot coals upon my heart.
Plus the boxes of regretted things forever tearing me apart;
    their contents overflowing like a pack rat’s treasure chest:
       with pride so high, it hits the sky;
       with things allowed to slip by;
       with acts so selfish, filled with shame;
       with pity’s gritty sand;
       with things I’ve said in fits of rage;
       with vanity’s so grand;
       with times I pushed to shift the blame;
       with haughty, dirty hands;
       with lies so stupid they were lame…
And even after all of this, those boxes still contain more,
    but for sanity’s sake, I’ll say no more!


Now the fire’s burning strong and bright, as infernos tend to do:
    Perhaps I’ll save myself a stick while I watch the blaze ensue,
        and over the open flame I’ll roast a marshmallow or two.

A concupiscent life (revised)...