I have literally cried for daze with wildfire smoke in my eyes. I pine for the daze where the earth on fire was largely a metaphor. This poem was delivered from purgatory.
Mother Earth Riffed
We live (sic)
In a whirled
Far beyond just
Smoke-filled rooms
And ultimately kicking ash
As a pall
Over running us
Like a shroud
To no a veil
Between U.S.
Fecund nature
And that forest upon us
Like a smokey
In deep
Deep south
A wresting every fuel they can fine
How wood we
Re-fuse
Over and over
Know madder how much
Infer no
Too sum scorched earth palsy
Or tinderly ax
Our own
Creation
A ravaging beauty
What prize
Fetching
A lure to death
Only culpable
Of saying
Winsome lose sum
As we pay
Our respects
Like a funeral pie her in efface
Or passing the buck
In the coarse of last rights
A eulogy to such beauty
Having lost its weigh
What’s Mother Earth?
Smokin’
