Several Songs About Fire, by A. Savage (2024)

1.

Hollowed face strangerJust who might you be?In the mirror, something’s cryingWith the same eyes as meI studied his face asHe spat in the sinkI watched the foam that sizzled slightlyThen observed it was pinkMy weekly dinner Of popcorn and co*keEvery Friday, like communionThat I took as a jokeThat tallied the weekendsWhen time had no handsTo count the passing of the days spentWith no decisions or plansMemories are slipperyBut I’ve clung to one like a shadowHunts the heartbeat of a manOn the runThe thin poly film ofAn envelope paneThere in the devil’s favorite typefaceIs my address and my nameRemaining balanceThe largest sum yetFinal notice, printed boldlyI’m breathing fast and reading slowlyI recalled the names fromThe badges they woreAs they pointed me to followA yellow line on the floorThat ends in the cornerTo watch the bag drainI taste a coldness as the poisonDrags the blood through my veins Why am I programmed to feel like I doTell me master, am I broken?Wasn’t I built by you?Silence is goldenBut nothing quite roarsLike a sunset reflectedIn those wild eyes of yoursThat peak from the blanketAnd make my skin feelLike it’s been dipped into something sacredWhile the gods held my heelsWilder than the firesThat burned on TVThe sound was muted, but I could hear itI was the forest and I could feel itEach time you leave meI say it’s the last time I Let you cause I’m certain that I’ll repeat my pastWhen my check gets deliveredAnd the law gets off my backI can build us a place to call homeUntil the hope in my soulI just mine and not something they say that I stoleNothing feels certainI don’t know if I’m hurtin’ or healed

2.

Most things are overThe old world is goneWorship death,Catch your breath,That’s the west,Carry onWhere do I go after one dozen lapsAround the sun in this townWith the people it traps?Riches and roachesCome and go with easeWhen’s my cue? One more round?One last fry, one last freeze?Lately I’ve noticed that I am awayMore than home more than notIn the zone’s where I stayJust like Elvis in the armyEating dinner from a canSaying a prayer for rock n rollIs it gone? Do they miss me?I live in fear of the frauds who have flownThru the revolving doorTo a devolving throneAnd I’ve shed more tears than I’d care to admitFor the drunk fool on my stoopTalking so much sh*tSaid his goodbyeswhen I paid him his costScratch off card, can of beerHe said thanks and got lostWhich would he forgetIf he had the choice?Is it the look on my face orThe sound of my voice?Just like Joyce down in TriesteSquinting at the Grand CanalFrom the bridge like he’s back homeCrossing north into MontoLately I’ve noticed my hearts disavowalOf the suffering mythGuess I’ve thrown in the towelDebt, dust and memoriesTo collect and tradeTo the man, on the fanAnd in the room where I layStretching my limbs outTill each one extendsTo a place I can’t seeBecause the earth’s surface bendsSo let’s plant a seed thatgrows high and devoursWhat is yours, what is mineTill what’s left is what’s ours

3.

My stinkin’ lies and I were tracked down by a bearIt waited till I fell asleep to make its presence knownI heard its paws and opened my eyes I could smell it breathingIt could hear my bloodRed sky, a curtain draws, the moon traces aroundThe shape of something growing louder was stretched across my tentAnd etched into my scent was a garden of gutsTerror blossomed from my bonesWhen I get misplaced I forget the name that I’ve answered all my lifeEverything glows slightly, nothing’s so dim it can ever truly hideShiny and sharp as a grin grown in the darkWas I there or was I blind?Once you and I walked through the vines at the edge of townWe stained our teeth with wine and smiled like wolves smile at their preyLike teenagers when they’ve found a song that they can’t quit singingAfter they get highLe Grand Balloon, I’m the buffoon that treks your trailsThe pearly tit that milks the valley — Menstrual lava goddessI jump in, I can’t swim, but I don’t dare. Take me thereWhen I get old.There is a dark stretch on the road that connects my spirit to my spineLittered with my memoirs, thrown out of cars drove by people passing throughHoles in my shoes, distribution warehouse bluesWas I aware I was alive?Embers, innocent prisoners break free from the pyreYou light so I can find my way back in the nightA seed made out of light you plant in the dark, damp dirt of a dreamBuild us a fire family out of the trash from the bin behind the beauty storeLight them on fire and release a light so that I might follow it back to your armsDraw me a bath of the tears leaked from your laugh the bloomsThe green perfume of home

4.

This haunted place I keep a roomA pied-e-terre, a pharaoh’s tombThe cantos of my New York YearsAre scribed in ink that disappearsThe autumn leaves that store the glowof summer, then invite the snowIt’s five o’clock, the sky is dark,The blinds are drawn, the dogs all barkThe bending pitch of siren choirThat cries to find a crime or fireThe seeds of hope I throw acrossThe sea are kissed before they’re tossedInto the world like random prayers to godsWho don’t exist or careBut some find soil, and grow, and bloomIn fields I find when I’ve consumed too many beersGotten lost, I speak your name when they are tossedMy My, My dear you’ve showered the trashFor flowers and sparks that hide in ashAnd walked them through the city wallsPast parking lots, graveyards and mallsWhere rows of dirt are stacked with stonesLike skulls the bind the catacombsArranged into a shelter’s shapeTo lay low when we’ve escapedLike Procerpina’s gift of rainWringing the Styx out of her mane

5.

Million Grain into a flourFeeding dogs and losing hoursMaking noise while no one listensCleaning brushes in the sink, then,Riding cobbles in the classicsWearing nothing made of plasticsAt the seaside, gleaning shellfishReading more and speakingLess EnglishLoading Timer to an ovenPaint a room for making love inTaking part in the resistanceHearing sheep’s “baa” in the distanceFolding laundry from the clotheslineSilhouettes in winter sunshineGrowing lemons, saving the peelGripping tarmac on aTen-speed steel

6.

Mountain time wasn’t on my time that morningI shot out of bed you were curled in a ballThe sun was a dim strip of amber across the edge of the earthAnd the black oily blue of the skyI heard your voice ask whyAs I wiped the glass dryWell she mostly draws bulls these days that’s what I’d sayIf ever anyone asked about youI’d say it used to be horses, before that it was trucksI’d say next it’s container ships docking belowThe v shape of ducksBut you always belong to yourself, even when you’re not youEvery time I try escaping I loseIf you were a unit of time what would you be calledEverything that’s ever happened, or could happenTied up like yarn in a ballSomewhere young lovers sneak out secretlySomewhere a ball wrecks a jail to the groundBut nowhere’s like this and nothing else is as perfectAs the end of the bar after you’ve just sat downWell I live off paychecks much like you kind folksWho paid just to hear several songs about fireand I’ve hit hard times but I’ll still make it workI’m not one of those jerks who only talks about themselves(They’re often liars)But you always belong to yourself, even when you’re no oneYou might wear a disguise but you’ll never outrunIf we were a unit of mass, what would we float aboutThe night and its sound, and the rate that it travelsAnd they way it unravels as silencePerched like a bird on a gloveDried up like bones in the sandBleeding like trees in OctoberBare as the palm of your handSweet as an hour going backwardsLouder than the wind between planetsTied up like yarn in a ball

7.

Oranges are not for saleAt any store for several blocks aroundThe part of town where fruit justBrings in fliesCorner building used to be something elseAnd now it’s finally soldThen it’s eight stories highIn two years timeLaundry folded in a bag underneathA chart of price-per-poundQuarter machine out of order signUsed to be a corner with a mural of folksThat you would see walking aroundUsed to be a shop where a guy could fixAnything that had broke downUsed to be man who I’d see aroundAnd he used to be my palBut I just heard the news that David’s deadStill tryna wrap my head aroundI have paid rent to the same lord of landFor ten plus years, and nowI’m tired as hell of living life this wayFaces in the hallway change and youKnow who to let in and outNo one says hello or meets your eyeSo called friend who only says“Let’s hang out” if he runs into meHe says next week and I see him in fiveI remember parties where people would danceTo rock n roll all nightI remember parties where people would show upJust to start a fightI remember nights when we did both andI remember what you wore:A turquoise dress and tequila grinA mirthful mess when you walk in the doorCan collectors making rounds after darkAnd I can hear them clankI just drank and it’s money in the bankWitnesses just rang my bellSaturday when I was sleeping inIs that why their magazine is calledAwake?You can see me laughing to myself aloneWalking down the steps to the trainYou can see me writing words in a bookWaiting for a bus in the rainYou can see a stranger asking me for a buckAnd you can see me saying “sure”Because I just got the word that David’s deadYou won’t see him ask me anymore.

8.

My money melts like sugar in the shower when I don’t singLike a broken mockingbird that’s put in pawnAnd traded in for diamond jewelryThe shines but only briefly in the golden heart of fallWhere the afternoons wain quickly and your breathFloats in the final beams of eveningBut I don’t need dollars, pounds, or pesosTo know I am richI’ve got people who allow themselves to love meAnd are insane enough to be lovedIt’s funny to think how much time we quietly spend apartYou don’t need to be a witness to have withnessAnd I’m with you now, that’s certainCivilize me from the wilderness of constant mercyGuarding a nursery of lightThat drifts inside me like a caravan of floating candlesTrying not to capsize in the nightListen close to the dark and write down what it saysLike it’s words are your own,And dig a hole inside yourselfAnd bury them thereThanksgiving Day is every day I write a song like thisWhen I get down on all four paws and drag myselfby my own jaws toward a feelingAnd I wise woman once told me no one has a single voiceYou’re a chorus harmonizingOr opposing voices risingOr a string of strangers waiting for their turn to speakSo every day just ask yourself who would you rather beA conductor or a copor a night watchmen slowly strolling an asylumCivilize me from the wilderness of constant mercyCut like a kite string in a stormThat’s drifting through me like a caravan of floating candlesHuddled in clusters to keep warmAt the end of the hunt when you cut what you growwill you have what you want?And feast when fear is fleeced from the sheets of a ghostWhen you open your eyes to the sound of the dawnPeel a dream off your brainThe film that takes the shape of the surface you dry it onLike a Thankgiving prayer you can taste in the air

9.

PhotoautomatPortraits of 1,000 nights spent diningBut mostly winingWith angelsSome stick out their tonguesSome of them slept in my bedAnd a few of them even had funeralsMy collection ofItems signifying loveThey don’t all spark joy but they all have meaningMeaning tends to sitOn the surface of the pastBecause memories, like objects and people,need cleaningMy new green coatHas got a belt that I can tieInto a knot when I want it closed tightlyMy new green coatThat my dear friend gave to meIs the most-recent best thing I haveShe told me that it livedIn the Met museumAnd I could see it, in a case behind glassReasons to stay packed in boxesSafe from the risk of belongingProlonging my hesitanceMy ceramic dogWags its tail as if it sees you crawlingFrom the the night through my windowTurn it upside downAnd see the letters of my nameArranged in no particular wayRen and Stimpy toysThe first obsession in my lifeReminds me of the meaning in an objectThis one was my firstI hesitate to call it itHe has a name and once he almost got lost in a firethat I setReasons to stay, I’m uncounting themBecause you are the reason that kept meAnd I’m taking what’s left of meReasons to stay, I am weighing themBecause staying feels like a coercionAnd leaving desertion

10.

If you never want to see me againI’ll blend out of focus into the backgroundTill I’m goneI’m no good at saying adieu, so I wontAnd babe, neither should youJust say see you next time like it’s trueBut if there’s something you need to sayAnd you don’t know how to startJust feed the birds your final wordsThe day the hangman grows a heartAll my time’s been yours till now and it’s upSo we’re both feeling downMaybe in the next life, if we’re luckyAll the words said and wrote mean the sameWhen they’re sung, and soWe’ll say our goodbyes till we have moreBut if there’s something else you need to sayAnd you don’t know where to startJust feed the birds your final wordsThe day the hangman grows a heartAnd the rich all rob themselvesAnd the wasteland turns from soot to soilBut if you’ve got something left to sayAnd you don’t know how to startJust feed the birds your final wordsThe day the hangman grows a heartAnd the pulp turns back to pineAnd your lips are back on mine once moreLike beforeSo if there’s something say it now