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Nicholas Barnes

Glacier

one more log. this campground makes me think of scout law. i was
never in the boy scouts. but folks assume so. this i know: if you’re
stranded, burn wet living foliage over a blistering fire. i still can’t
remember which direction the moss points. but i’m not in distress.
tonight my smoke is playing gray-white. i’ve found a new pope. in
my cardinal lounging, i’m listening to an old seaglass ipod & riding
a paved road all the way to the sun. my fuego eats firewood by the
bundle, leaving behind sisterhood, novelty, and daydreams of seeing
cryptids through the trees. my bonfire troubles lilt and lift. up up and
away. clamshell ribbons. the hot licking flare; sweet tres leches spark;
carmine red velvet furnace; and stonefruit orchards lead me to where
i need to be. and that’s here, with its mosquitoes, pup tents, and the
curious threat of wolves and grizzlies. now, with its daisy chains,
dandelion wine, and the avalanche calamity of a burnt notebook.

 

About the writer:
Nicholas Barnes earned a Bachelor of Arts in English at Southern Oregon University. He is currently working as an editor in Portland. His poems have appeared in over fifty publications including trampset, NonBinary Review, and Eclectica Magazine.

Image: Cloudy Sunset by Robert Henri (1865-1929). Oil on panel No size specified. 1911. Public domain.

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