One of the first things you learn about fire spinners is that their wrists are rarely at rest.

The art of Poi - the traditional Polynesian act of twirling and swinging fire sticks - tends to be so addictive that its practitioners don't know when to stop. Whether they are swinging grocery bags around the house, spinning suitcases around airports or the lobbies of Miami, Mumbai or manchester hotels, or absent-mindedly spinning Poi sticks while watching television, the dexterity discipline insidiously takes over their lives.

A couple of years ago, Manny Castillo, founding member and de-facto leader of San Antonio Poi collective Brothers of the Flame, got consumed by the passion. Castillo made a habit of spinning glow sticks while working at Spencer Gifts. One day, a stick got away from him and broke a light bulb. His boss, Jennifer Martinez, already dubious about Castillo's hobby, was irate.

Two years later, things have changed a bit. Castillo now dutifully refrains from spinning at work. Meanwhile, Martinez has become an obsessive spinner, still concentrating on glow sticks, but fully equipped with fire gear and ready to start burning. She also faithfully turns up every Monday night at the back patio of Sam's Burger Joint to watch Brothers of the Flame put on five-hour showcases, which they call "rehearsals," but could also be seen as free instructional seminars and pyromaniac fetish fantasies.

Brothers of the Flame are a seven-man crew of local 20-somethings who dress in matching black wife-beaters and baggy jeans. They twirl hand-held chains with wick pouches doused in Coleman camping fluid. They execute tricky maneuvers with pretentious names that recall the way Derek Zoolander identified his various poses: Blasphemy, Firstcontact, Odyessy 2, Ultra, etc. They identify themselves by mythological monikers: Satyr, Sinder, Jedi, Vertigo, and Vortex. They talk about "respecting the flame," as though the flame is a personal friend. They also nonchalantly brush off the inevitable scars that come with their dangerous trade - Paul Dunnam (Satyr) alone has endured more than 40 burns to his body.

"You get addicted. It's like people getting so sucked into working out that it's all they want to do." — Manny castillo

On their own small, subcultural scale, they're like the Wu-Tang Clan or Jim Jarmusch's Ghost Dog, self-conscious mavericks employing ancient strategies as roadmaps through a complex modern world. For all their fascination with tradition, though, most of them share modest recollections of their introduction to spinning.

"I didn't even really want to learn," says Castillo (aka Vertigo), the group's player/coach and most articulate spokesman. "My friend was doing it, and it was one of those, 'I can do that' kind of things. After beating myself up and finding it was harder than it looks, I got into it. You get addicted. It's like people getting so sucked into working out that it's all they want to do."

Castillo is usually credited by the other Brothers for devising new moves for the group. His short, round frame belies a natural athleticism. He and Gabe Alejo (Vortex) created the group after meeting each other at the Spy Room. At the time, they made a habit of spinning glow sticks at raves and parties, and were itching to, in Castillo's words, "do the more advanced thing."

The "more advanced thing" involved spinning fire sticks, an art seriously practiced at the time by only a handful of Texans, most of them based in Austin.

They slowly added more members, each with his own particular special talent. Castillo is the most fluid; Alejo the most acrobatic; Jeff Etheridge (Sundance) creates the most complex moves; Greg Swift (Wulff) specializes in highly, dangerous juggling moves, fittingly known as "suicides"; Travis Allen (Sinder) prides himself on his arm and leg wraps.

As the Brothers learned to merge elaborately choreographed spins with pounding electronic beats, they became an attraction at local goth events and raves, even earning a showcase at the 2002 Winter Music Conference in Miami. The big surprise, though, is that they also started getting offers to perform at weddings, family barbecues, and quinceañeras.

"We get almost more respect and love from doing those things," Castillo says. "Right now, there's a big craze with the glow sticks and those kids all know who we are. You almost can't buy glow sticks in this town now because of this fad.

"Four years ago, when I started, there were maybe 10 people in this town even playing with glow sticks. Now, every little kid's in your face trying to show you up. I tell them, 'Don't compare a go-cart to a race car.'"

BROTHERS OF THE FLAME Mondays at Sam's Burger Joint 330 E. Grayson 223-2830 Thursdays at Planeta Bar-Rio 3830 Parkdale 593-0411 Tuesday, July 15 Paul Oakenfold Far West Rodeo 3030 NE Loop 410 646-9378

"We go into restaurants or to the mall, and they see us and know us by face," Castillo says. "That's hard for DJs to pull off, unless they're world renowned, and we're local boys."

Etheridge says fire spinning achieves some of the same effects of meditation, demanding such a high level of concentration that it "frees your mind up completely."

That, and a natural competitive urge to constantly attain higher skill levels, might explain the addictive qualities of the experience.

"It's just about doing something that we love," Alejo says. "If you really love something so much, you're going to do everything possible to continue doing it, even if you are putting yourself a little at risk. But by putting yourself at risk, you learn what you can and can't do, and prevent things from happening."

Tall and skinny, with a goatee and dirty blond hair, Swift tends to take this extreme art to its greatest extremes, so it's hardly a shock that he is the Brother who suffered the most serious injury.

"I got a first-degree burn across the back of my arm from one of our fire staffs," Swift says. "We were outside on a very rocky area and when I caught the staff and brought it in, I lost my balance a little bit, so I stopped it with my arm. We've since learned a method for pulling down the staffs, so they're not hot at that point, but we weren't doing at that time."

Alejo adds: "We tell people to practice with glow sticks or the Hawaiian Poi balls. That's probably the safest way to do it. You're going to bruise yourself and cut yourself a little, but when you start playing with fire, you're going to burn yourself." •