It Is Beyond Apocalyptic

Of course nobody sleeps.

This is the beginning of the end.

This is the beginning of the beginning of the end. A fire burning on every side of the city.

The smell hitting the house around 9 pm.

I take my favorite poetry books off the shelf.

And put them haphazardly in a bag with my computer. My hard drive buried deep in the closet. I can’t even think of my notebooks. The phone becoming an ironic salvation for the word. For where to go. Watching the map burn.

The headache arrives at 6 am.

Zero containment.

I watch the Eaton Fire grow East / West.

We talk about what to pack for the baby.

Everything smells of ash.

I take my make up off and sleep in my clothes.

The wind still going strong.

Reducing our lives to nothing to just what we have in our hands.

Photo from the New York Times