Tag Archives: fire


Apocarteresis (a-po-car-ter’-e-sis): Casting of all hope away from one thing and placing it on another source altogether.

There was always love, and I took it, and I twisted it, and I tore it; I crumpled it, lit it on fire and threw it over the abyss between knowing and hoping–burning, sparking, smoking, falling, drowning in the bitter sloe pool; lukewarm and slithering–churning and grey, thick with the ashes of extinguished love–a perfect sump for hell.

Now, as I awaken frigid in the dim cramped closet where I hang, smelling camphor, and mothballs, and the left-over odors of long-departed clothes, I think of the bodies that wore them as they tore through life’s fashion arcade, wanting to look good, wanting to wear the latest, wanting to be admired and loved.

Now gone forever, only their empty hangers remain–some are plastic, some are wire, some are cedar, but they all hang quietly with eternally perfect spaces between them, keeping them perfectly apart.

How do I get down from here and touch the floor, and feel its wooden smoothness underneath my feet?

If I could only unbutton the clothes that hold me, I could slide off my hanger, leave my pants, and sandals, and shirt, and softly walk away.

To feel the wood, and then the earth, under my bare wiggly toes! To feel the sun and brush my teeth!

Back on the surface, back on my feet, I shall walk naked to Paradise (a famous shopping mall). There, I shall be refashioned; and looking good, and being admired, I shall be loved, and being loved, like a permanent-press shirt I shall tumble dry on low and feel the warmth of the cycle as my wrinkles smooth. I will I find love, and give love, and be loved, and that’s all there is.

Back to the ground! Back to the dirt! Back to the pleasures and all the things that hurt.

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Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu)


Mesozeugma (me’-so-zyoog’-ma): A zeugma in which one places a common verb for many subjects in the middle of a construction.

6.00am came and went, then 11.00am, then 5.00pm, then 10.00pm. At midnight he thought, “What happened to 7,8,9 and all the rest?”

Out of the corner of his eye he noticed a large brown hiking boot standing on his pillow. He rolled over to face it. It had no foot in it, but there was a folded-up piece of paper tucked between its tongue and red and black laces. He started to shiver.

Midnight went. 2.00am came and went, then 4.00am, then 7.00am, then something started pressing on the back of his left leg. It felt like a warm crayon–waxy, dull, slightly sticky. It was prompting him to grab the piece of paper from the boot!

He pulled the paper from the hiking boot. Shaking with fear, he carefully unfolded it. To his surprise a tiny bright yellow plastic Sponge Bob popped out and landed face up on his bedspread.

He was thrilled.

He never imagined that he would be the recipient of a well-crafted miniature genuine plastic version of THE Sponge Bob. THE Sponge Bob he adored and watched every afternoon from the beat-up couch in his basement with his little orange cat Crowbar nestled by his side.

“What’s the occasion?” he wondered.

“What’s that smell?” he asked himself.

His bed was on fire and Sponge Bob . . .

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Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu).