poetry & things

The mad sun

When I dream this desert turns green, blooms

clouds race where mountain lions loom

ash gray, the cool of blue rain comes

a redolent wind of desert sea

rushing waves, sand blown

sculpted saguaro forests

pale flowered yellow

drinking every drop

now this eve we drink

now before another dawn

of the mad thirsty sun

My lips are cracked leather

lizard dry, my breath melts into mirage

beetles emerge from dark caves

in flashes of iridescence, crawling

their tiny tracks, surreal sand paintings

art for cactus wren, hunting

Here, beyond yet another

sparkling diamond mound

lies a wild sea of the sailing ships, I’ve found

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