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Welcome to the first poem from my End of the World series, with thanks to the outstanding Orion’s Belt for the publication! Read the full issue here, including my poem.

Museum at the End of the World was born earlier this year while I was traveling with my partner and aunt on Lassen. We were in that volcanic region at the same time Mt. Etna erupted halfway around the world. A few poems emerged from that devastation; this is the first (stay tuned for Visit to a Private Collection of Parietal Art, coming in early 2026 from Dreams & Nightmares).

My aunt (who is a poet, writer and book artist) was telling us about the Japan Art Islands, how difficult it was to travel to them. How like a pilgrimage. (We were on travel ourselves, navigating the barriers of ability and stamina that come with age.) In a flash, Museum came to me, although it took some exploration to understand exactly who (or what) was telling the story. That piece came a couple of days later when we finally made it to the southern entrance to find just how close a recent wildfire had come to the Kohm Yah-mah-nee Visitor Center. How nature herself had knocked on the door.

A door that was nothing special, wood with a metal handle.