The Bonfire
In Europe for hundreds of years it has been a custom in rural areas to build and light a bonfire on the eve of the Feast of St. John the Baptist (June 24th). Some time ago I wrote and published a poem with the title given to this post, the one copied below. The poem might recall the incineration of “vanities” instigated in Florence by Savonarola in 1497, the source for the title of a best-selling book by Tom Wolfe. But now that season of forest wildfires has begun, inevitably we think of the millions of acres in Western states ravaged by uncontrollable and life-threatening burn-offs. One more sign of the threat posed by climate change to our environment.
The Bonfire
Lamar Jenks on Death Row at Sing Sing,
drops the letter sent from Florida
stares out high windows through the chain-link screen
to where brick walls
meet the sky and the sun sets
a window opposite on fire atomic white
the brick begins to burn
and the cell his clothes the little gold
cross around his neck
and his right hand comes clean
in a glove of flame
At King’s Cross someone chortles “Get down
them apples” as early morning
wage-slave crowds deescalate to the Tube
and flames rush up to meet them burning like rocket
exhaust through their numbers up the snowy street
meeting outdoor air with a flame cold enough
to incinerate the new fallen snow
The woman has outside the clinic in Entebbe
all day in direct sun
sat holding her number
sweat soaking into the cloth
of her turban breath
comes in short rasps someone
in white gave her a cup
of water but no the water is burning
and when she spills it the earth
catches fire and spreads to
the clinic and all are caught up
in the inextinguishable
flashbulb diamond
Quai de Béthune light deflected from facet
to facet in the chandelier
Vivi de Montreuil drifts forward among
the guests apéritif dangling
from her hand and takes her place
on a sofa she puts a glass down before
selecting a cigarette
from the vermeil box on the table
Ghislain bowing forward with a lighter
and the transfiguration begins
black satin changes texture but not
color as fire overtakes it
the salon is a corps of flames vibrant
rhythmic roaring at a gallop as
the paneling becomes immaterial
gouts of fire exploding outward into the night
and the river down below sends up sheets of flame
Trains huff out of and into the station its name
both in characters and Roman letters BEIJING
Li Han pushes a cart up to the door
he is frozen in place
as fire boils out
from the wheels and races across the platform up the columns
erasing whole biographies characters
and letters rewriting everything
in a contagious metamorphosis
This is Espirito Santo province
a worker lights his torch and
thrusts it into a dry bush which smolders
and then begins burning the rumor
spreads to strangler figs wrapped around trunks pushes
up to the canopy where monkeys begin screaming
their fur on fire as they leap
from tree to tree roasting missiles fallen dead
conflagration overtakes a village reaches a delicate
hand down to the post office and the blue
green and gold flag waves briefly
as it goes up in flame and turns to gray crepe
Sudan but he does not know the name
of this village he and other Dinka were taken
in a raid and forced north These are of Islam and he would not
give up the Lord so they cut the cord back of his ankles
When pain stops he will be a slave and lame blood has dried
on the dirt floor Come Lord come and here is fire
through a hole in the tent it widens the sun
burns the tent desert meets this white burning with heat
and surrenders to the greater fire
On Mischief Night in Detroit someone’s painted
death’s head mask crouches over a man
lying on the sidewalk in a heap
clutching a shoetree in his hand undisturbed
as gasoline is poured over his clothes
he does wake up for a few seconds oh OH as fire
covers him from head to foot fire that spreads
to the steps of the library engulfing the stones
in red billows that crackle and roar with laughter
as the streets send up columns of flame and acrid incense
Belfast has its rundown suburbs now
Kevin slips the point
of the syringe into his girlfriend’s vein
the needle burns her blood lights
the bathroom mirror starts showering flame on them
the taps the shower head begin spurting
the air tingles dances thunders
fire pours out the window floods a parked car
the tank explodes red orange a siren cleaves
the night the sound sings and burns through the ear
Beef cattle amble in from the stockyard
outside Bogotá the automatic hammer
butts a black-furred forehead and when the blow comes
flame spews out from the skull and floods the room
like napalm as the air fills with the smell of charred meat
and the blood basin
burns and smokes like a burning well
Father Meeker of Saint Anthony’s Pittsburgh
murmurs the Agnus Dei
at eight o’clock Mass snow of early
January no one came today
Terry his acolyte this morning
gazes numb at the elements
smooth red hair still damp
glows in the candlelight
head bowed nape exposed
finished
without a thought his hand goes out
wax spills over from the candle then fire
the table burns a fiery furnace
and both are caught up in it writhing
Overhead fluorescent lights in the lab
on Nekrasov Street hum while
Yelena Milenkova completes the experiment
on particle motion confirmation is automatic
results beaming onto the screen the formula
accurately accounts for all data
and when a query appears and she presses
ENTER the screen goes white
in a nanosecond the lab reaches a thousand
Centigrade pictures from the satellite
show a brilliant white light at Minsk
White lights everywhere widening
begin to merge grass trees asphalt concrete
alight Dresden Toledo Mogadishu bright torches
Osaka Montreal Petra Auckland Pyongyang
the violins horns printing presses Principia
Mathematica on fire “Nighthawks” Glas
Ajanta To the Lighthouse Benin ivory
Siegfried Karnak The Hall of Memory
fuel for the flame
eternal flame the substance of language molten
a spontaneous revulsion from hegemony awkward
construction site lines of glass
dismissed seeing them in the opera
shun attention span shortening
do we have clearance from the terminal
do we serve
a terminal flame
term fla