"The desert bears only a scathing sun, and nothing more."
"What about mirages?"

Friday, July 9, 2010

Listening to Wind.

I can hear
the sly snickering
of wind
drowned out by
the churning belly
of the neighbor's lawnmower.

It's a shame
I can't sit here
in quiet isolation
and contemplate
the complexites
of wind
brushing by my skin.

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"Write with our backs to the wind and our faces to the hard, bleaching sun."