VOICES FROM THE FIRE: Dan Holt

Mini Bike

You had this

mini bike

with an engine

the size

of a lawnmower

It sounded

like a chain saw

buzzing

up and down

the street

The one time

I rode it

the fucking thing

shot out

from under me

when I hit the

accelerator

and smashed

into a tree

Your dad

drained all

the oil

and gasoline

and stashed

it in the rafters

of your garage

He said

it was

too damn

dangerous

That wasn’t

the last time

I ruined

the fun

Bestseller

Sitting on

an old couch

at the end

of someone’s

driveway

in the middle

of the night

Completely

out of our heads

on acid

Laughing in

that insane way

only acid heads

understand

The kind

that makes

your face hurt

the next day

Bouncing lines

off each other

Plotting out

a novel

Something

about vampires

and cemeteries

This is gonna 

be a

bestseller

Dig These Blues

(for Mark Borczon)

What is there

to say

about the blues

It lives

in a place

all it’s own

Sing the praises

of the bad news

Celebrate

your troubles

and get lost

in the glory

of twelve

lonely bars

The first

the fourth

and the

beautiful fifth

The relative major

tells the story

and the walk down

brings it home

Nothing Was Said

I had this

blinding headache

and everything 

she said

just made it worse

It was like she was

shouting

not in my ears

right

inside

my head

I grabbed her

by the shoulders

and shook her

Stop

screaming

Just

be

quiet

Then I saw

the look of raw

fear

in her eyes

and I realized

she hadn’t been

speaking

at

all

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