Bellows

On the subject of Phoenixing

You think I’m gone.
In the ground
Decomposing
No.
I am embers in the ash
I am breath blown
I am bellows—
Phwoo-whoo-whooo…
The kind that stoke
From cinder to smoke
And the kind that obliterate
With sonic
Seismic
SHOCK

You think I’m long gone.
You’re just not looking in the right places
You keep hunting for me in
The old spaces
How many breadcrumbs can one person leave
Before it’s just time to
LEAVE

Actually
I think you’re not even looking
That’s cool.
If you passed me on the street
If you shook my hand at a meet-n-greet
I doubt you’d even recognize me
You’d scratch your head
Might say, “You remind me of somebody...
Yeah…somebody long-dead.
I know!
You remind me of that girl.
She used to whirl and twirl
With all her silks and skirts
Unfurled.”

Little known fact:
I still do
Never stopped
Never ever stoppin’
If we danced together
At a place real hoppin’
I doubt you’d know my name
You’d never think to call me
By my name of fame

Do you even know about my infamy?
About the axe and the big, black marker
The muzzle over my ginormous, frothing barker
My oversized middle fingers
And the scent of sulfur that lingers
In my golden hair
Oh, I see.
You’re still looking for me over there
And you?
You never look ‘cause you don’t care

I don’t mind
I recognize myself
She’s still right here
In the embers of the Phoenix’s gaze
Phwoooo!

Phwooo…

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