poetry & things

Soon the Solemn Sun

South

Driving south

only cactus go by

my skin hot, dry

peel of my lips

taste how sweat drips

melt behind this wheel

sink into surreal

this road to Mexico

slow the air of black crows

slow the circling of death’s bones

cool riverbed, just ahead

driven from my home

drift, I float this desert ocean

dance this floor

alone

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