and there will come a day
when the children play in the blackened soil
and stare at the mountain peak
and make pretend
about the monsters at the summit.
and there will come a day
when the climbers
drag their gear to the top,
camp out in the crater,
and call the mountain
“conquered.”
and there will come a day
when the soil
is fertile again,
because god has blessed it so,
and the grapes they grow
are called perfect and heavenly,
and there will come a day
when the castings
wither away
to the ash that they once were
and the histories
become stories, become tales,
become myths.
and they will say “there’s nothing to fear,
let’s stay here.”
Tag: fire
Sermon Notes for the End of Days
come to the trees, dear brothers, dear sisters,
let us worship what we fear
where have i been?
burning with el dorado – that golden city glow
over the event horizon.
Fire stretched over it spiraling in eternally
light to may not escape, but god, how good it glows.
You are here, the most beautiful thing i’ve seen –
You are the graveyard full incarnate
how could anyone look upon You
and not believe in god –
this You
who turns all ninevehs to feathers –
who drags rome to its knees in a heap at Your feet –
even phoenix songs die in the dust
for we all knew this day would come
this orange flood to cleanse the earth –
thank god
we’ve lived to see it –
what shall we say to the god of death?
i say when,
you say now
now
now
now
family dinner
longer than usual.
debris on 680.
once parts of vehicles.
once parts of people. part
of traffic now. stopped.
silent. earbuds going in.
windows up. northern california
daydream. sunburnt hills.
powerline miles
keep the lights on.
only a spark.
so what of a spark.
camp. kincade.
aqi: 225. stay inside.
stay inside. like smoking
as many packs
as we already do. home
is where the heat is.
seated adjacent
to rubble. seated
adjacent to love.
stones for the chairs.
all that remain
of ashen remains.
eyeing across
at each other
eating something like
family dinner.
broken china
has to do.
should probably
be inside. sure.
if there was
an inside.
meat too tough.
too long in the smoker.
speak in explosions.
only a spark. no more
power here.
hills too bright.
forks clinking.
dusk falling. now
we know better
than to keep the lights on.
Strange Fog
Mute dawn
seems
in supernova glow
again today.
Beneath gray sheets,
our eyes lay
naked
to rays that should blind…
This time, we wish
ears
had lids
instead… for
we hear
of another garden
taken
as offering…
We breathe
sick sacrifice
second-hand.
Some wear masks. Others
evacuate. Then…
come virulent winds
and we know
there’s no other way.
But not you.
You say
it’s “water”… or
“ocean spray”… or
“just fog”…
You close your eyes
to ash
and soak in
sweet toxicity.
You cough more
than you used to…
but
“that’s just how it is.”
I wonder if
you’ve
ever known
blue skies…
But you
insist
this strange fog
will pass.
And you won’t leave…
So I’m forced to
watch
you dance…
you dance…
in the acid rain…
*My heart goes out to everyone effected by the NorCal fires.
Carpe Noctum 