Some poems are "frictional," and give off sparks. These sparks can ignite something in you. Let them in. Always remember to speak the poem aloud so your ears can participate. The words enter the ear's vestibule and yes you see Vesta in the naming, none other than the hearth goddess. She keeps the fire going, the fire that must never go out, ignis inextinctus. Sparks, indeed!

A new member of the blog, Daniel Blake, offers these sparks.

Under the mound of my belly, the occidental is ended

God awful Sun-days

Going all sideways,

Gone asunder suddenly;

Gasping after salaries.

Gary asked somebody

Going around sounding,

Garbling about summertime

"Got any spare 

gillyform-aero-space-suits

going?" And so

Gary and Saz,

Giggling about stardust,

Got away swiftly

Gaia's almost shifted

Gas! GAS! Quick, boys!

Bear only yesterday scattered

Beady Owl's yarrow stalks...

Bundling, orating, yelling skyward,

Bear overwatches your secret

Beehive. Ominous, you say?

But only your splitside 

Boxed off your shine.

Bring out your seafaring,

Bellybusting overalls, young soldiers.

Look up, nighttime arrives.