tinderbox, dale winslow, poetry, neopoiesis press


I ignite, like the drunkard’s match,
in exhausted alleyway at 2 a.m.
Burn my fingers on this fire
that strikes in hours deaf and blind.

I ignite, like winter kindling,
quickly and brightly as heavy scented cedar.
Rush of sap to open air, needle-rich,
heady release of earth and breath.

I burn, like birch bark,
written with welted words,
living pages of white set to flame,
these lines, smoke-signal reflections.
I burn,
and all that was, dissipates.

I burn, like ancient, peat bog fires,
memory, coiling and uncoiling,
a cryptic dance over moors.
I burn,
covering the moon with smoldering fingers.

I ignite.
I burn.
I ignite.



  • Facebook Classic
  • Twitter Classic

"Dale Winslow's Tinderbox shows a sure, mature touch with words, and styles. Many of the poems herein blend symbolist style with contemporary rap: a rap without the theatrical ranting and bling. And from time to time one can hear or glimpse in the background an e e cummings, a John Skelton. Entertaining and thought-provoking.” Eric McLuhan, author of Electric Language,The Role of Thunder in Finnegans Wake, and co-author with Marshall McLuhan of Laws of Media, and Media and Formal Cause.

Go to link