Thursday, November 10, 2016


you've left the underbrush to grow

uncontrolled these last oh hundred some years or so

you've made sure to keep the kindling to a minimum

washing out any thoughtful sparks

you'd hoped another team would take up the chore

but now the fire ignites

now it's pushing us out

out from behind tall damp trees

out from beneath the cool soft ground

out over streams gravid and unfordable

out into the roaring plains

out off into the charred hills

you've prayed for more lies and steady progress

and maybe I have too

but there is none of that left

and the fire from the rising tombstone cliff by the swelling sea

moves inland flickering

moves against the swaying leaves

comes for us all

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