a hot fire breathes

of bonfires and vanities

A hot fire breathes a million words or
     more
like sparks that skyward swiftly swirl and
     score.

New hot heads crack and pop their angry 
     phrase,
and join the old heads lighting much
     ablaze.

The burnt opine cones spew their seeds of
     rage
each day on reader’s blue and scrolling
     page.

We by and by see sparks recede to
     night,
view germinated apathy and
     blight,

spy crackled phrase that smolders with 
     less bling,
then drown ere see we dawn of next new
     thing.