7.17.2008

Dunes

The running desert,
Calls with its chains and its toils,
To the desperately safe,
To take away pleasures,
And find another mind,
Like the crashing of cymbals,
Cacophonous bliss,
The lizards forking tongue splits open,
All you thought you knew,
The desert,
Mother of discovery,
Will bring you whatever you care to see,
When your bones offer up last,
The life that so strove not to cling.

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