The Lighthouse of Maracaibo

Sailors of Venezuela
Set their course by the Beacon
That strobes above Lake Maracaibo.

The cascade Catatumbo pours into the lake,
That’s surrounded on three sides by mountains.
Locals call it the River of Fire.
Every evening clouds roil,
And gather and thunder.
Lightning strikes like a viper,
On average once every three seconds.

If you’ve ever gone down to the sea with me,
You know I navigate based on chaos.
The flickering gabble of unbroken storms,
Calls me home like an unholy choir.

Spray cross the bowsprit, I pull down the sail.
We are drifting in uncharted waters.
Fog blown by wind takes us in like soft fronds.
Pass in dream-light betwixt rocky islands,
Hungry monsters around us, abeyant.

To know God’s mind,
Please consider if you will for a moment,
The inevitable lightness of being.
Stars above, stars below,
Place your faith in the compass,
And over the waves you will go.

If you’ve ever gone down to the sea with me,
Then I wasn’t alone or divisible.
I grant the crew leave to explore Baranquilla.
While I spiral into your zephyr,
Becalmed when,
I tell you my anchor is love.

Beat Box (Ignite)

reading poetry in the north beach
the pellucid archer awareness
enchanted by song
saw a god gain a power
the birds sound so happy
as god flies around
in a floating chair
the song of the treefrogs
a chirrup

the greatest thing you can do for the movement
is to wash your own dishes
a scientist proved that free will is illusion
the big bang left no causal escape

chance is indefatigable
I’ve invented a box
that emits indeterminate waves
to restore your free will
what it tells you to do
do the opposite

Fred Pierre works at the public library, where he sits way too close to the new book shelves. When he's not reading through his overly tall stack of checkouts, he's writing short stories and poems. His work can be found in High Shelf Press, X-R-A-Y Lit Mag, and Tiny Seed Journal. You will likely find Fred on a hike in the forest or on Twitter @FredPierre8.