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Quemado
I dreamed last night that I was in my old truck, out in the saguaros south of Burro Creek. The dog was with me, talking to me from the passenger seat of his hatred for deserts. “Turn left,” he said. “There are forests higher on the Rim.” I did not turn except to follow the turning of the road.
The road clung to the precipice for a mile and then descended. We pulled over to the edge. A mile below us the desert was burning. Smoke rose to us; the cloying scent of Joshua trees ablaze, charred earth and flesh attenuated on the rising air. For a hundred miles to the south there was nothing but fire, and towering plumes, and a sky burnt hell-orange. Phoenix was out there burning, and Tucson, and I watched Baboquivari melt on the horizon.
I turned to Zeke, alarmed for him, but he was already ablaze. Bright torrid flames sprouted from him like fur. His eyes undimmed he watched me, calm but curious, concerned, and then he fell to ash before me. “There are forests higher on the Rim,” he said again, and then the wind dispersed him.
Posted by: Chris Clarke
Note: A database glitch in 2008 ate a bunch of archived comments. Don't be offended if yours isn't here, or confused if the conversation seems disjointed. Thanks!
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Crying.
By: By Theriomorph on 2007 12 04
write the book you have in you. then go to the forests higher up. xoxo
By: By kathy a on 2007 12 04
As Ed Abbey would have had it, “Good News”.
By: By Fred Levitan on 2007 12 04
Amazing. Poetry. Thank you.
By: By Xris (Flatbush Gardener) on 2007 12 04
spyder and chris are scaring me…. but I could be having the same dreams, but awake.
Depression that I cannot seem to shake. Our world is dying, and now the K9 has fleas again.
She’ll sleep in my bed with me, nevermind.
By: By sravana on 2007 12 04
I come in from a difficult day and check in here before collapsing in bed and feel that wind blow thru me watching Dog turn to ash - I am so relieved to get communicated to like this. I am so grateful.
By: By in medias res on 2007 12 05
Maybe you should visit those forests?
By: By Rachel Shaw on 2007 12 05
I’ve had this post in my head while reading Gray’s Straw Dogs: Thoughts on Humans and Other Animals; an interesting overlay indeed.
What a sucker-punch of an image: the dog who speaks such that that we understand. Whence its power?
Is it the painful years of sub-creole communication: the frustrated fumbles, pleading eyes, double-backs and flicker tail? “If only my English were better; if only you spoke dog.”
Or is it exactly what you suggest: we know, at heart, that we are missing essential information, important warnings.
Reports of new animals widening the interstices of even dense human habitation feel like an awareness that fire is coming. Chemicals on the breeze, flashes of color, calls and postures all are screaming at frequencies that we choose to hear as static.
Poor dogs, and their flawed choice of companion species.
By: By jmartin on 2007 12 06
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