Moses and the Burning Bush, by unknown artist
A Charred Crown
After torrin a. greathouse
i.
Molek! Your holy fire consumes
the burning bush speaking these new riddles
of time being transubstantiated
to dying. Like bread to flesh wine to blood.
There is no being like you, fluorescent
god. You are spectacle, city on hill
inferno frozen, flooding an earth.
Earth: body. Inferno: entropy.
I want this body cold and expanding
toward nothing. Can inferno bleed from earth
edge? Can body be remade by iced flame?
I want this body warm and shrieking now
to everything. Can one exist without
Earth? Molek! Can one become inferno?
ii.
Molek! Your holy fire consumes
the burning bush speaking these new riddles
of time being transubstantiated
to dying. Like bread to flesh wine to blood.
There is no being like you, fluorescent
god. You are spectacle , city on hill,
inferno frozen, flooding an earth.
Earth: body. Inferno: entropy.
I want this body cold and expanding
Toward nothing. Can inferno bleed from earth
edge? Can body be remade by iced flame?
I want this body warm and shrieking now
to everything. Can one exist without
Earth? Molek! Can one become inferno?
iii.
Molek! Your holy fire consumes
the burning bush speaking these new riddles
of time being transubstantiated
to dying. Like bread to flesh wine to blood.
There is no being like you, fluorescent
god. You are spectacle, city on hill,
inferno frozen, flooding an earth.
Earth: body . Inferno: entropy.
I want this body cold and expanding
Toward nothing. Can inferno bleed from earth
edge? Can body be remade by iced flame?
I want this body warm and shrieking now
to everything. Can one exist without
Earth? Molek! Can one become inferno?
iv.
Molek! Your holy fire consumes
the burning bush speaking these new riddles
of time being transubstantiated
to dying . Like bread to flesh wine to blood.
There is no being like you, fluorescent
god . You are spectacle, city on hill,
inferno frozen, flooding an earth.
Earth: body. Inferno: entropy.
I want this body cold and expanding
Toward nothing . Can inferno bleed from earth
edge? Can body be remade by iced flame?
I want this body warm and shrieking now
to everything. Can one exist without
Earth? Molek! Can one become inferno?
v.
Molek! Your holy fire consumes
the burning bush speaking these new riddles
of time being transubstantiated
to dying . Like bread to flesh wine to blood.
There is no being like you, fluorescent
god. You are spectacle, city on hill,
inferno frozen, flooding an earth.
Earth : body. Inferno: entropy.
I want this body cold and expanding
Toward nothing . Can inferno bleed from earth
edge? Can body be remade by iced flame?
I want this body warm and shrieking now
to everything. Can one exist without
Earth? Molek! Can one become inferno?
vi.
Molek! Your holy fire consumes
the burning bush speaking these new riddles
of time being transubstantiated
to dying. Like bread to flesh wine to blood.
There is no being like you, fluorescent
god. You are spectacle, city on hill,
inferno frozen, flooding an earth.
Earth: body . Inferno: entropy.
I want this body cold and expanding
Toward nothing. Can inferno bleed from earth
edge? Can body be remade by iced flame?
I want this body warm and shrieking now
to everything. Can one exist without
Earth? Molek! Can one become inferno?
vii.
Molek! Your holy fire consumes
the burning bush speaking these new riddles
of time being transubstantiated
to dying. Like bread to flesh wine to blood.
There is no being like you, fluorescent
god. You are spectacle, city on hill,
inferno frozen, flooding an earth.
Earth: body. Inferno: entropy.
I want this body cold and expanding
Toward nothing. Can inferno bleed from earth
edge? Can body be remade by iced flame?
I want this body warm and shrieking now
to everything. Can one exist without
September 14, 2025
Further considerations
Baby Boom and Bust
‘Howdy hoody! Lemme guess: you was just passing through the middle of middle England, and you recognized the flame-decorated Ferrari outside my Hobbit Hole, and you buzzed ‘cos you fancied a parley?'
Telling the Truth
I once told a therapist my father was molesting me. It wasn’t true. I was twenty-five and exhausted, lying awake most nights trying to understand why I felt so sad when nothing in my life was obviously wrong.
Thoughts of Endangered Paper
Here I am, looking at this copy of a // two hundred-dollar book.
this is about capitalism, and The Poet Sees Her Ex at Pride
duty pulled a mountain along lesser used roads. // time was ill-spent preparing workers for the crossing.