Comments about Frank Lewis
Twelve Fields Of Ash
In the town by the Rocky Mountains, the Fire burned at midnight.
Those homes in wonder, gazing at the Knight,
Now lie as Twelve Fields of Ash.
Where there were walls, rise walls of fire;
Where there were rooms, sleep plumes of smoke;
Where there were colors, Ash is painting black.
And the Fire; the Fire rages on.
Cease, great Wind; I demand!
Already I know the Fire.
The beastly inferno-
Its limbs, the glowing ambiance scratching and skittering along the earth,
Clambering for prey;
The heat, its breath scorching the earth for miles around.
I see ...