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

Monday, June 3, 2013


The road moves
in a slow methodical dance,
each twist
each turn
each spread of the shoulders
only to contract
with the next cyclical  movement.
I lose myself in
her body
her hair
that black as coal stare
as she rips down my walls
piece by piece
and I watch
the road go by.

1 comment:

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