Break, Burn, Blow.

So apparently another year of really bad fires like four years back. Though this time we have crazy strong winds. My house is kinda in shambles. In so far as the fence blew down the roof part of the annex tore up. RV in back got shredded. House is filled with dust. It's raining ash. My brother is trapped up the hill. My sister is trapped at my other sister's house because frankly the whole let's go to San Diego thing is a total lost cause. I'm still trapped without internet. The power comes and goes. The air is smoke filled from time to time. The freeway system is clogged and nearly unusable. I'm out of soda. Hundreds of thousands are evacuating. Mass walkouts in local high schools (about half of all the kids, only the one I know about). Little mountain burnt down. I could have had one more piece of cheese cake. I don't have work in the morning. I'm going to get work in the morning. My title is an allusion to John Dunn. Which is itself a pun on the father, sun, and holy spirit (all of Dunn's poems are either about Sex or God and they both have both in them). A bunch of cans blew somewhere in the yard and I need to go find them and put them in a bag. There is no set pattern to these notes.