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This Idea Is Called "Fire"



Moses gulps smoke in front of a bush which shimmers and chokes but cannot burn away. Jethro’s flock congregates just out of frame (they bleat without ceasing, convinced that noise has a way of washing their path and drawing them to cool water)


as the wide open music of clean sparks drifts towards heaven.



For the original publishing of the above poem and more poetry from Oakley Merideth, visit Kingdoms in the Wild.

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