poem a month

untitled fire poem

in ,

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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american poem

in

this month’s poem-a-month newsletter was a bit late due to technical difficulties, but has gone out now. have been thinking about the stories we tell ourselves in order to protect us from having to face tough realities, especially the realities of having intersecting types of privilege in america.

morning in america

& another layer of ash
has settled over the streets
whispering to us as dawn
claws her way up.

we nod awake, arms tired
from putting ourselves out front
our houses silent but the memory
of fire lingers in our lungs.

still the ash keeps falling,
lace-like on our eyelashes
crystals for us to brush—
we never care to learn
where the burning is from.