ISSUE THREE: Alertly Messy | next poem →

Pyromanian I

Kris Hall

as a child I am sure that you were taught

that fire equals hot.

that fire equals ouch.

your mother, tapping welts into your wrists,
all for the sake of your permanence.

I can flick and switch through the widgets
of this static almanac, but for the life of me

I cannot remember my mother ever
teaching me how to play with it.

itís as if it is yesterday, and I am there
as if it were the day before;

my three-year-old cheeks are still warm
from the building, across the street, ablaze

razed and disintegrated

I was absorbed by its heat
cantering and crackling;

ephemeral destructor.

I didnít know that it could do that.
I didnít think that I would


Kris Hall is a writer and organizer from Seattle, WA. He is the curator for Daídaedal and SQUASH: Beats & Books. He is also the author of the chapbooks Notes for Xenos Vesparum (Shotgun Wedding) due this fall, and Dillinger on the Beach (Horse Less Press) forthcoming in the spring.

ISSUE THREE: Alertly Messy | next poem →

ISSUE THREE: Alertly Messy

Kelly Nelson
   My Uncle at Nineteen
   His Mother Writes
      the Warden, 1955

Jon-Michael Frank
   Funny How Time Slips Away
   Not Fade Away

Jacqueline Jules
   Obsolete Angers

J. Bradley
   Yelp Review:
     Planned Parenthood
    of Greater Orlando

   Yelp Review:
     The Milk Bar

Amy Schriebman Walter
   Hope in a Yellow Dress

Miho Kinnas

Mark Povinelli
   Notes I
   Notes II

Kenneth Nichols
   The Best Writers
     Bombed the SAT

John Patsynski
   The Money Weapon

Aileen Bassis
   Pellucid Musing

Travis Macdonald
   When the Map's Crease
      Becomes an Axis
      and Detaches

Kris Hall
   Pyromanian I
   Pyromanian II

Claire Scott
   Harbor Lights

Elizabeth Kate Switaj
   Poseidon's Canto