day 19: desert poem

Uncategorized

Desert Poem

 

In the desert, edges are essays.

They are always long

heavy, breathless

 

Where dust devils dance

into a wide pale sky.

 

Here you have

no rain.

Earth cries

for bursts of violence,

 

of love

yet visited.

 

The local name

accumulates in the hollows,

steep and quite bitter.

 

This is the nature of that

Between. If it were not so,

there would be little.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s