As I watched the seaweed slosh
against the base of the old rocks,
Suddenly,

I thought I saw a silver coin
laying in a rocky trough.
I lowered myself to have a closer look.

That's when I saw,
(how can I describe him...?)
the Seaweed Man.

Apparently, I lost consciousness...
A good samaritan
had heard a scream;
called an ambulance,

and now... this hospital,
where at the moment, I'm finding it impossible
to convince the doctors
that what I saw, midst the seaweed,

is true.
If only they'd believe me!
I took this photo, but they claim,
it's a fake...


c. Douglas Fireman

Unpredictable

In some relationships
the circus trainer
bearing fangs

cracks the whip
There are no clowns
to assuage the fears

No one
to tame the wild beast
within

No artist
to restore
Love's shattered vessel

Blood
drips through cracks
in a wooden floor

Tomorrow
the funeral will begin
at four

c. Douglas E. Fireman

How often
have we thought about
what's inside?

So preoccupied
with what's out there
we've forgotten

to lift the lid that hides
ourselves in canopic jars
of our own making.

As we reach
toward the stars for clues,
those lost parts of ourselves

remain undeciphered
as hieroglyphs
in silent tombs.

c. Douglas Fireman

I took this picture of a 'canopic jar' while in Egypt.
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Canopic_jar

The crunch of leaves beneath my feet
reminded me of her.
She was sixteen
and my Queen of Hearts.

Beneath that very tree
occurred a memorable alchemy
when I married the moon in her,
and she the sun in me.

That night, her lunar light
lit up my darkness, as the solar light
in me, entered, merged,
and illumined hers.

We danced circles
round our mandala of expanding love.
And then, the lights dimmed.
The lovers' moon and sun

sadly eclipsed
The crunching leaves
beneath my feet reminded me of her,
and I weep.

c.Douglas Fireman

Black roses blooming in my soul
My heart surrounded by shadow
And in my dreams

I walk stagnant streams
or sink into sea weed sodden seas
Once

my silver silo contained golden grain
Nothing's there but empty shadows now
If I could steal this grief

and toss it to the wind
for a moment it would blow away
and then return again

I can only pray
that from the darkness I've received
a better thing will be conceived

So I harvest black roses in the night
hoping their dark petals will transform soon
to petals of light.

c. Douglas Fireman

From Rilke's 'Book of Hours.'

You, darkness, of whom I am born-
I love you more than the flame
that limits the world
to the circle it illumines
and excludes all the rest.
But the darkness embraces everything:
shapes and shadows, creatures and me,
people, nations–just as they are.
It lets me imagine
a great presence stirring beside me.
I believe in the night.

I hope I didn't wake the neighbors,
but frankly, this thing scared
the hell out of me.

I haven't screamed since my kid
popped out of the clothes hamper.
It's embarrassing!

I thought the whole thing was a dream.
But when I looked again,
I saw the beast duck behind

the maple tree. My wife
won't believe a word I've said,
and thinks,

I'm totally crazy. And here I sit,
my heart still pounding; my scream,
resounding in my head.

The neighbors called to tell me
how appalled they'd been.
Just popped another valium.

I have the urge to look again.
I tip toe to the window.
And there, beside the maple tree,

I see the beast
and notice how it
resembles me...

c. Douglas Fireman

I manipulated the original pic,
a flower in my wife's garden,
and added a touch of paint.