Tag Archives: anthropocalypse

sepia toned

we woke up sepia toned

not drained of colour but transformed into shimmers

 

light lays flat

yellowed as yesterday’s bloodied sun

slipped sideways on a once upon

 

we call each other asking

“do you see it too?”

and words like apocalypse

like endtimes, like otherworldly

fill our mouths as the sky fills our thoughts

 

later, waiting for the ferry

I walk the beach up to and under the dock

crosshatched shadows feed the noontime reek of creosote

triggering memories of campfires

then all I smell is the smoke of a carbon sink

a million trees candled in the wind

a burning world

riding thermals down every seaward valley on the coast

until each wave pushes another dragon under

 

we try to laugh about how strange it looks

as the sun reddens its shroud

 

today is marked in black

this is the year when winter thins its cool

no matter how golden the sky seems right now

or how wonderful splintered light appears slipping through ashfall

this is no celebration

this is not the same as other years

when autumn slashpiles streamed pendants

 

today is amber

a moment to hold long enough to remember

how startled we once were

 

 

 

David Trudel     © 2015

 

 

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Fin

In these echoes

Of fin de siècle somnolence

We wait in apprehension

Of the next great conflagration

 

When we wake up

Again

After it all

It will seem so quaint

The way we live now

 

In such fearful security

Balancing the knife edge of

Civilized barbarism

Against possibilities of miracles and magic

With one hand on technology

And the other placed above your heart

 

All you want

Is one more day

Of normal

One more day

Until it starts

 

 

David Trudel        © 2013

 

 

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