somewhere among the
crashing and burning
Far off from my
but you can
over the flowers
the clumps of
lost to dreams and paintings,
Summer burning away everything,
Apollo too close to sage,
an attempt to naturally
pull more carbon into the world,
cycle it back to the roots,
to reestablish lost updrafts of life,
billowing clouds of ash and spark
tickling the feet of God.
I smell it,
feel the once strong roots
tickling my nostrils,
what could have been a haven once,
now reduced to ash,
like a red wine sauce over steak,
I pay through the nose for this too.
Unwittingly at first, I eat
Unwillingly then, I breathe,
being forced to notice that I’m
an artist, trying to fight
and the world simply continues to burn away,
as my computer hums its flourescent cancer into my iris.
One thought on “Smelling Smoke”
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