My only completely trimeter piece:
This cosmos. . . always was
and ever shall be ever-living fire. . . .
Heraclitus
O Phoenix Culprit!
My life’s consumed by fire
with every breath I take,
and feverish from its heat,
I dream while I’m awake:
of rosy-fingered dawn
the ancient bards admire,
that fallen folds—a fist
of terrifying fire;
of leaves on an apple tree,
their glorious green subsiding,
that flare like fuses, fall
to death, the tree surviving;
of the flaming fallen phoenix,
transformed again to ashes,
that sparks itself and rises,
flies high before it crashes.
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Ralph
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