Apathetic Fallacy

The evening valiantly teased rain
a slight shift in the wind wheezing through
desiccated leaves of trees awilt
offering neither respite nor reprieve


A rogue cloud pushed through the smokiness
flicked five faint drops echoing Cetus
against the soot-encrusted window


Before they could trace the constellation
with their blackened cracked and blistered fingers
it faded into insignificance


All around them the fire ate the world
smug in its inevitability
licking at the fields and the forests and the sky
still unopposed by any long-blinded witness

Written for “Poets in Response to Peril” upcoming event (April 2022). Hear my reading and see video below (posted by Rico Sitoski).

Event details here: https://www.rsitoski.com/event-details/poets-in-response-to-peril

McCarthy on Order

Why do we write? To make sense of the world? To create our own worlds? Whatever the case, I think this quote by Cormac McCarthy is the perfect place to start my journey in trying to figure it out.

The universe is no narrow thing and the order within it is not constrained by any latitude in its conception to repeat what exists in one part in any other part. Even in this world more things exist without our knowledge than with it and the order in creation which you see is that which you have put there, like a string in a maze, so that you shall not lose your way. For existence has its own order and that no man’s mind can compass, that mind itself being but a fact among others.

Blood Meridian, or the Evening Redness in the West, Cormac McCarthy, 1985.