Fire long ago
produced no smoke.
Flames consumed
everything because
smoke arises
from imperfections,
and in the beginning
all things were flawless.
Over time fissures
let faults in
I know this:
These days
there is far
too much smoke.
(end)
David Henson
(Image of the author and the Great Annabelle)
Saragun Springs 
As I sit here at 1am, trying to write something–anything, I come across David Henson’s breathtakingly short and prescient verse; it ain’t fair, guys! I loved it, really. A bittersweet comment on then and now.
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Struggling to write is no fun, especially at 1 a.m., although finding that twilight between wake and sleep sometimes opens my mind to ideas.
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David
I love that smoke is caused by imperfections! I guess that is the directive behind hellfire. As a poet, you are first rate.
Leila
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Thanks, Leila! Writing poetry is a nice change of pace.
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Mysteriousness. My mind went to several places. Amazing, with just a few words you created such powerful visions. Ironic too–a possible critique on social media and politics. Well done!
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I appreciate that, Chris. Sometimes compression and minimalism hits … and sometimes it misses. Like most things, I guess.
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David
Your poem reminded me of the Leonard Cohen line, “Ring the bells that still can ring, forget your perfect offering.”
You show how much can be done in such a small space, like a Zen koan, one of Oscar Wilde’s epigrams, or one of Jesus’ parables.
Your poems are just as impressive as your fiction. Keep ’em coming!
Dale
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Thank you, Dale. I love that Leonard Cohen line. I’m constantly impressed with how well-read you are.
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