The Nature of Fire
"The great desire of a flame is to continually burn.
The nature of fire is that it always wants more."
~Corvidus the Elder
Under the wing of the Crow
hides a feathery system of madness;
students burn syllables of darkness
spat into the alembic of sanity,
turning gossip of metaphysicians
wanly cadaverous by starlight,
turning gossip of metaphysicians
wanly cadaverous by starlight,
whispering quicksilver clues.
The philosopher's stone still eludes them
though they work with the frenzy of madmen
to dry the cold humors of water, push
a natural progression of vileness
to purity using the flame.
The nature of fire is that it's immaculate;
the mourning of fire is that it always wants more.
a natural progression of vileness
to purity using the flame.
The nature of fire is that it's immaculate;
the mourning of fire is that it always wants more.
They speak these glowing desires
in the tongue-twisting gibberish of blackbirds,
court the devilish salvation of oddity,
vulgarly cawing of victory in the
soothing-sweet chant of the damned.
I cannot credential this lunacy
despite my degree in Catastrophe.
I toast it instead with the elegy
of a memory;
our glasses hold legions of flames' flickered casualties
like ladies lavish with luxury
pile amusements in portmanteau'd piracy,
knowing fire will always want more.
~December 2013
lightly revised, July 2023
reposted for desperate poets
Woe For My Spurs
Original process notes: Poe prefaced many of his short stories with quotes, and
many of them were ones he made up, as I did here with my excerpt from
the works of the imaginary alchemist, Corvidus The Elder.
"The philosophers' stone or stone of the philosophers (Latin: lapis philosophorum)
is a legendary alchemical substance said to be capable of turning base
metals such as lead into gold... It was also sometimes believed to be an
elixir of life, useful for rejuvenation and possibly for achieving
immortality." ~wikipedia And what deserves an elegy more?
Image: Alchemy the Useless Science, Remedios Varo
Fire always wants more and is gobbling its fill right now creating all manner of havoc. A beautiful poem, Hedge.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Sherry. Fire is a living curse around us, indeed.
DeleteSo it all begins, under the wing of a crow. Imagine such a world. Of course it is inhabited by alchemists. It is a brilliant opening as is the quote from Corvidus ( I read Corvidious first glance) In these few lines I am already enchanted and I then get treated to 'burning syllables' and the most ingenious use of the word wanly. This is all so breath-takingly good. So then I read the original and discover a list prompt lurking under the crows toes! Are you kidding me? And so to quote you back at you, "I cannot credential this lunacy despite my degree in catastrophe." Fire isn't the only one wanting more here.
ReplyDeleteThank you! I'm so glad you liked it, Paul. I miss very much the original challenges we used to get at Imaginary Gardens with Real Toads--the one this was written to was Fireblossom's, of course. Fortunately, we do have a desperate destination still to entice out the words. Hope you enjoy your getaway! Thanks again.
DeleteIt sounds like that degree in catastrophe has been well earned and given you brilliant insight into the fires of life.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Suzanne.
DeleteYour crow sage Corvidus spreads a burning umbrella over the oven of this poem and its alembic of lunatics playing at alchemy, itself a crazy idea to turn mother dross to spiritual gold. Inhaling those lead fumes and "vulgarly cawing of victory in the / soothing-sweet chant of the damned." The elegy here is for what and who all that fire burned, those "flickered casualties" who keep returning to the flames to quench in them again. If there's an alchemy for desire (an idea which carries over from Shay's supreme challenge last week), the foolish gold of it confounds in this burpy incantation of magma, More and crow wing. We're all Bozos on that bus, but I've never seen us described to keenly. How apropos this summer where landscape has become pyre.
ReplyDeleteYes, an elegy for the burned, for the memories of heat that began as passion and ended as destruction--I wish I could have written something original for this prompt, B. It's a very good one, but the heat in real life is brutal here, and it puts me into a somnolent state similar to a large overfed python. Thanks for getting me off my hot rock and out into the world of words.
Delete"the alembic of sanity".... love that, you have me looking up words, Joy. And a degree in catastrophe must come in handy. The lines
ReplyDeletelike ladies lavish with luxury
pile amusements in portmanteau'd piracy,"
are an alliterative feast. One to read again and again! Great stuff!
JIM
Thank you, Jim. I admit to getting a little carried away with the alliteration, but sometimes it fits, so wth. I really enjoyed yours.
DeleteDeep quote leading us (with bated breath) into your poem ... stunning.
ReplyDelete"I cannot credential this lunacy
ReplyDeletedespite my degree in Catastrophe."
How much do I love that? Let me count the ways. You tripped me up and tripped me out with your Corvidus. I thought, wait, what? Hedge is up to something, and so you were. I really like the image of the useless science at top. That's arresting. For an earth sign, you write quite vividly--and with a trained and jaundiced eye--about fire and its appetites, not to mention the appetites of your ladies with their portmanteaus. (Portmanteaux?) I love it that you brought this one back.
Thanks, Shay. It would never have been written, let alone revised, without your original word list. I am indeed an earth sign, but my Venus is in Sagittarius. ;)
DeleteEric here. You murder me with this, old crow. For I too learned of this from fire, the opposite of what it’s for. Yet like lust, it’s never slaked, and the answer to a thousand questions is simply ‘more’
ReplyDeleteThe made up quote is so brilliant, it didn't even occur to me to question it! Well done. And then the consumption of the poem, wanting and wanting and burning and wanting more.
ReplyDelete