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Five poems from Fire.



Gray black and burnt brown.
A feverish dissolution or reclamation of the body
The memory of rain drifts through openings, slides into the earth.
Breath, escaping, wings cloudward.

What if we were to open our mouths
And thin strands of color spilled out,
Rain’s coda



To spin the gray of sky
On the edge of ash
Into words
I reach for threads
To pull and separate –
In the room there are lamps
On every table
The shades forming umbrellas
On the inside
Is light and warmth
July’s day sky
And words spilling
Out like children’s
Bright new teeth



My palms offer an opening

Dissolves the dark
Night sky

Sews red into indigo
Exhales gold
Into day’s cerulean blue

Wind splits the trees into
Hundreds of wavelets



Listen. There is attachment here
In the dark purple, near black, of the scabiosa
Pincushioning across the white and green
Of ivy. In the voluptuous muteness
Of leaves and climbing growth. Heart-shaped
Leaves of cream streaked at the edge in green
In the whorl of ear notes fall and fade
Vibrations relayed along fronds
A spoked wheel revolving along unused paths.
Aloud but unheard in the summer
Heat. The cellular strength of near black
An assertion of red, smoke of indigo



Rain begins to fall
And she is
Winter safe

Words cluster around each sensation

Action wafts time into air
Disappearing day

JAIME ROBLES is a writer and visual artist. She has produced many artist books, including Loup d’OulipoLetters from Overseas, and Aube/Afternoon.  Her collections Anime Animus Anima and Hoard were published by Shearsman Books. Most recently, she edited and designed Cobalt Blue, a selection of writing by the abstract expressionist Sam Francis.

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