the islands off the coast are on fire yellow and crimson just beyond calico beach the fire s ascension of gasoline burned red and green is like the balzing corona of a midnight sun under the angelfust and the terminus the heavens have already been turned caught in the circling eye of a cloudy high is the feeling that i m gonna get burned the islands off the coast are on fire orange and violet standing on a thundering beach frozen in silence the rising sound of burning ground is like a carbon echo of a smoking gun just beyond the solution of rolling seas and pollution salted hands salted lashes salted wings turned to ashes standing on a turpentine beach the sky s growing blacker the imagery seems clear to me a glowing symbol of danger on the horizon