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Fire Sign by Katherine Osborne | Electric Cereal
Fire Sign Web 1

Fire Sign by Katherine Osborne


ISBN: 978-0996303620
Retail Price: $13.95
Paperback, 90 pages
9 x 6 inches
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Katherine Osborne is a voice coming through the woods. It is a soft voice, trailing hoof prints. When you hear it, you cannot help but follow it. You part the trees like a curtain, and there’s something glowing behind them. Yesterday I closed her book. But if I could I’d spend my whole life in that cloud.

– Bob Schofield, The Inevitable June

Fire Sign shouldn’t be able to see. Through one eye, it’s a world of cosmic-surrealism, a godhead dwelling in tall and burning mountains, straddling continents of dead deer, divulging heartfelt paradoxes with a flick of the golden tongue. Through the other, it’s a grounded world of flesh and bone, of calling the phone operator out of loneliness, of sifting through faded childhood memories, of driving across wintered streets at midnight. Osborne’s tightly structured poems bring the two eyes together and, instead of darkness or discord, something huge can be glimpsed. Fire Sign, like the best of us, navigates by its own glowing light. Follow it.

– August Smith, Bird Lizard Horse

Fire Sign

I walk the property
trees one at a time

Be careful they say
No, you be careful

I say back.

Every possible horse is happening off the coast

of Iceland. Are friends starting to look closer?
I am downloading the earth until she’s face first
in forensic blue, the ocean starts right here where

the drifts get deeper. I can feel

Nova Scotia, her saltmarsh getting close where my

mouth accidentally. you keep handing me a
megaphone and then you say that’s just a cup

of water you don’t need to take a holiday in it.
I like when my sister talks about past lives.
I’m delirious with ideas because I want to be
another kind. I’m the one who can’t sleep
I can’t say paper cut without feeling it.

I can’t say anything without
feeling it. A circle ends and then
immediately begins oh god print

this out before it goes streaming live.

My son died. The stage is lit
with famous poets. I know
they are famous because
their sons died, too.

Now it’s August

Your hair on fire for him is a very old idea.

Let’s look through magazines. Take some
quizzes instead. I woke up
to the sound of cicadas
levitating into taller trees,
trees with their mouths open.

Last year is getting

expensive. I think

you both should walk through
the quiet mall on your hands, maybe your
hands and knees, and ask
what it was you wanted. And if
it’s done yet.