The flash flood of euphoria,
is swallowed by the thirsty ground,
eternally unquenched.
I will smile,
and fix my eyes on the desert sun.
I will grow roots and bloom,
an endogenous cactus,
while envious drifters lick the sand,
desperate for a drop of rain.

The shadow of knowledge
is wonderful but how much
do we actually know?

The matter we perceive is not
a matter to another creature.
Constant change, everywhere
change of matter, change.

The great Tanzanian desert
flowing with sublime sweetness
caresses the mind of bias
with the mystic dunes of music.

The wind which plays shapes
blowing the movement of ash
but is it wind which moves?
The dune moves by itself.

As a walker stepping slowly
the dunes step wisely ahead
making 17 meters per year
a crescent on earth and in sky.

The moon, the sister of the dune
observes its everlasting shape
creeping along the dyne horns
sand cascading into half-moon.

The heat is waning
The desert its getting cold
lost it eats me whole

The wise wind blows one part of the desert to meet the other...

Forming a family of sand dunes that ever live in peace...

For the wind knows...

That to live under the scorching heat of the sun and for the fear of loneliness of the vast desert to fade away...

The sands would need company!

Snakes won't cross a braided rope,
so I take the leads up from around my bed.
I remember her face-
bright and
smiling beside mine
white as if she had just shed a skin
and the dunes grow now over the urchin barrens,
a desert in the sea.
I can peer beneath the 3rd lid
my heart claws at my throat,
allergy tight from the judging shade of
green.
The 3rd lid opens over the Taklamakan,
Tibetan horns sound so old -
ancient vagus nerve endings in my throat but my heart claws them away.
Snakes won't cross a braided rope but
her eyes are green and we lay a
cottonmouth skin across her womb.
All I see are diamonds on the ring fingers.

eyes red and dry like i've been crying
and hands reaching out to the hiding dangers
with careful steps so as not to wake up
my exhausted twin guardian angels
the devil's right hand clings to my belt
the sun sets so late in the summer
when the time is right and the sunset's nigh
give the dust i'll turn into back to no man's land
for now i crawl aimlessly on a floor like a desert
tenderly gripping the devil's hand