fire — sweeping across
the land, uncontrollable,
an Act of God — and me —
what am I? — a fire sweeping
the landscape of my own life

Triggered clearly in the first instance by a routine visit at work yesterday from the man who inspects and services our fire extinguishers — I dreamed last night of some kind of horseracing track whose carefully cultivated grass surface had caught fire. The poem took considerable effort. It may be slightly laboured in the way it spells out the idea of interpreting a dream image by referring it to my own personality. In terms of verbal elegance however, it works quite well. I am mystified what the dream means at any deeper level. Maybe it follows on from yesterday’s post about pornography, with the fire obviously suggesting sexual passion and desire and concupiscence in the broadest sense of lust for life.


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