a desert's sapped gold, desolately

faced--struck by serpents whose

venom is a rising chorus.

vanity mirror of a sun that cannot

be imbued by secondariness.

spittle oasis' of a wanderer sinking

journey-less steps into the wending

tracks of serpents.

strung and unstrung along by dead-silent

arrays, multitudinal whispers of demons.

the slow decomposition of worship,

a promise to a promise, to a promise--

visibly lost.