The Windy Fire
A poem
Today the sky is bleeding it doesn’t hurt yet like the illusion will: a reminder that almost anything can burn especially this house, these leaves every one of my dreams you
the centre may be far for now the smoke blowing south has made the sun a boil upon ashed skin and where daylight should be a slow cast like a flame passed through a ruby
it’s been dusk since 8am a beautiful day for a photoshoot? of your brand new face and clean hair for sale I was ugly last week but today blue eyes dazzle pink red light is often flattering
this whole city is a brothel these days (was it ever not?) in fact, the planet should exhort: sleep at your own risk die at your own pace it will all be over soon
the tree frogs don’t seem to care at least I think that’s what they are I’ll never see one will always hear some and the image is sweeter to bear
but fuck I wish they’d eat the mosquitoes better.






