Too cruel a phenomenon? How sunsets are more

spectacular when fires are burning behind them. How
to deny the beauty of a blazing sunset, even when it reflects

a blaze. Today I looked for you in the sunset and all I saw was
a streak. Tomorrow I will look for Gariwerd, for L.A., for

Gaza in the mute grey-blue sky and wonder about cognition. I’m
never more suspicious of beauty, never thirstier for it. Oh,
flames. Our stove is gas. The auto-ignition is broken. I light the

burners like if I tilt the match at the wrong angle, it might
slip and melt the world. I want to throw a cup of water on the

sunset and see how fast it sinks. I don’t want it to sink. The
earth below is dry. The earth below is weeded Country. The
orange and pink in front of me, a reminder that aesthetics can be

murderously distracting. Therefore, please rise on new neural pathways.
Divert my leaking eyes. Outside, a tap connected to an underground

pipe is watering an unburnt spot of lawn.