Ode To Burning Man

by B. Ashen Lillis

 

Twenty square miles

of empty, hot, flat, dry

alkaline lake,

transmogrified into

a city of over twenty thousand revelers,

party people congregate

to celebrate

art

and freedom.

Labor Day week, each year

exuberant throngs mill through a new city

born in the Black Rock Desert of Nevada

money is worthless

the rat race forgotten

normal daily life beyond recollection.

Costumes appear

Or none.

Twenty-four hours a day

music or music-noise,

expressions of the talented and talent-less

entertain.

Monumental and miniature

creative works of imagination

dot the desert playa.

Colored hues evolve through the day

as the sun plays on the surrounding mountains.

Wind. Ever present desert bluster

sweeps up white alkaline powder

dries and coats everything, each

crevice, cranny, crack is covered,

invaded, chalky.

During the ebony night

twelve tube lit, six-foot long fish

school together,

a blue horse gallops,

a dolphin swims,

a kangaroo ”Boings.”

a butterfly flits.

Extravagant youthful imaginations

from everywhere

seen with Chem-illuminesence.

Techies, their bicycles

desert creations, themes

displayed.

Laser lights duel in the inky sky

brilliant shafts of green

dance from mountain to mountain.

Glowing fiber optics, neon, tube

lights, blinkers, everyone’s lit,

working up to Saturday night

when the Man immolates.

Imaginations run amuck

expense or time be damned

lots of creations will burn

sacrifices to the arts gods and spirits.

Gifted youth without constraint. Ultra free.

Unfathomable ideas. Excuses to act out.

Clever, unchained opportunity for

Nighttime nutty-ness.

Party participants stroll illuminated

fiber optic lines bounce hello

their shiny bright tips wave good-bye

stroboscopic brilliance, glow, shine, blink

and flash.

Folks rest during the day’s heat.

But it can be cold, costumes are covered.

Sundown, the party re-ignites,

participants, no observers, mill on the playa

exercise uninhibited freedom, and party.

Incomprehensible nighttime extravaganza.

The Man burns late Saturday night

stuffed with fireworks, explosives, excellerants

after much fire dancing, fire eating, pyro antics,

becomes consumed in an inferno so hot,

it generates its own desert wind.

And he falls

to a rousing roar from thousands of

roving revelers.

Sunday night a dozen infernos draw inhabitants

onto the playa again like moths to light.

Nearly everything burnable is torched.

Monday, Labor Day

break camp

return to reality

everything brought in goes out.

Wait ‘til next year.