california fires

untitled fire poem

my poem-a-month newsletter went out last week. since the beginning of the climate fires here on the west coast I’ve been trying to write a poem about the weird light, the gritty air, & the scent of doom. mostly I’ve failed. I sent my latest attempt out in the newsletter. read it here & subscribe to get a poem & a poetic exercise in your inbox each month.

untitled fire poem

I want to write a poem about the fires
about the ash floating in the air
like the scent of summer jasmine.
the smokers teeth sky pressing low—
so much lower than I remember.

I want to write a poem about the burn
pressed into my eyes the rough sleeps
the feeling of fine sand in my throat.
I want to write it but the flames—
are never quite far enough away.

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yellow sky diary

no filter, shot on iphone. 10 september 2020.

no filter, shot on iphone. 10 september 2020.

the air is dusty but after a moment you reliase it’s not dust, it’s ash.

another blurred yellow morning. I couldn’t sleep because as the sun comes up the smoke gets worse. my throat catches. I rub my eyes.

no one ever said a transformation would be easy, but I wish it wasn’t quite so hard on those of us not insulated from its worse effects. maybe this is a wake up call & the world will be better afterwards.

maybe it will be much much worse.

everything inverted in my tarot spread this morning. an indicator of confusion. everything turned upside-down & opaque. maybe searching for beauty in the middle of all this is the task at hand.

maybe small, shimmering, moments of beauty is all we have.