All roads are born as detours from different kinds of fire.
Sometimes the first letter of You is a road parting in two
& sometimes two roads conjoin to elude a fire.

It must have been an arrogant or crazy man who said
the only men worth quoting are either arrogant or crazy.
We're always paraphrasing God when we yell: Fire!

When I was three, my father burned down our apartment.
But it was not until my brother died that I learned all eyes
are the same color when inside them is the echo of a fire.

Those who fear death often say they want to go in their sleep.
I can't imagine a nightmare without outlets: a dime of blood
beneath the tongue, ankles tangled in the coral barbs of fire.

I is just a road with two dead-ends. All poetry is language poetry.
The opposite of I is always fearlessness, just like
a dam with glowing heaps of water is the opposite of fire.

Every poem should come from the gut. Nothing else I've said
is true. Here, let me open this drawer in my stomach
where I store the nights Kevin A. Conzalez swallowed fire.











From Poetry Northwest Fall 2006/Winter 2007 Copyright University of Washington. Used with permission.