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

Wednesday, October 5, 2011


The sky is at it's clearest
after the storm.
You step outside
breath in crisp,
moist air,
and gaze upon
painted blue.
In a moment
you transcend small everyday life,
and see with utmost clarity
the blemishes of this world.


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