This Season of Ashes
st julian crept across chiléin the season of ashes
the weathervanes swept the skies
the landscape cracked open
i moved to the island
in the season of ashes
the stars were haunted
their lights were dimmed
i moved to the island
when the eagle married mars
when the ashes were signposts
when freedom was hunted
like a wild hart
Now available in postcard format with a painting by your humble correspondent. The poem is obviously compressed in my telegraphic "postcard" style. I wanted to conflate Chilé and the events of 2001 — as many did, yesterday. May be too telegraphic to mean more than images.
What do you think?
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