shifting winds blow tenderly
revealing all that they're covering
unearthing old tunes so lovingly
brushing over their edges and caressing
gentle notes of sand rush softly

Not the heart that beats in the heat of desert milk!

Not the milk that duplicates and does not sink into searing sand!

Please! I see it now! The Pale Sun rising above Klee Temple— inspired by lines of dread. The maddening has begun!

We shall rendezvous with the camel spiders, those who pince at the moon in chambers of the dead.

I dip my index finger into a cold butterscotch pudding,
closing my eyes as i bring it to my warm lips and a burst of surprising flavors enter onto my taste buds.
Sweet, Caramel oh so creamy....this is why i love my pudding.

Sahara Dust
Ally & Foe
By
Carson OTP Alexander
Potassium, Calcium, Iron,
Nitrogen, Phosphorus
Are food for Phytoplanktons n Amazon Trees,
Still loads of it is a Blanket that makes me sneeze ,
Hurt you n me medically,
Via its nourishments n Blows,
Is D Sahara Dust
Ally & Foe,
Transported By Easternly Trade Winds,
Depositing tons
On The Atlantic Ocean n various land falls,
Decreasing Strength of Hurricanes,
Unknown to us all?
Authenticated By Various Scientists,
A food source chain & Mental Bliss,
Similar in Color to Clouds Of Rain,
Viewed from my Naked eye,
Upon The coastal turrain,
Natures Happiness & Pain,
Via Its Nourishments & Blows,
The Sahara Dust
Ally & Foe!

remember the mountains you've climbed,
the valleys, the deserts, the cold nights,
everything you've been through to reach here.
bring the lessons, the people you love,
anything you need for the journey ahead,
and greet the new year at the summit.

You had not joined me
My totem-journey to the wellspring of the Colorado
to seek the source of things uncontained

the stars washed over me with asphyxiation
the breathless gasp of space



--In the deserts;
Rocklands--
the emerald barrel cactus
is watered as the earth
and the passerby
Cheyenne
cut into the crust
to sip the wine-flesh
to be drunk
and exhume the inhibitions of living

Forbidden berries
in the garden of quills, spear thistles
trust upon the air to protect her children

a good, silent mother
does not refuse
the gift of deflowering
as she is stripped
of her sharpness
and laundered
bestowed in salted bison skin of a war-chief's pouch.

This muggy, sultry sun is no fun:
Longest sustained heatwave for over forty years.
Suffocating Sahara with Death Valley cracks
In the dry arid soil.

My electric fan shattered with a power surge
Into fragmented plastic shards.
I so miss it now.
It’s oppressively tropical,
With volcanic heat
And Pressure bearing down on us.
The clammy mugginess of a sauna.
Not the clean dry air you find abroad,
Yet still that remorseless torrid scorching,
Roasting and toasting.
Just too much.

Hot air clothed in humid moisture,
Stuffy and sweaty,
Steaming to a haze
And later
Thunder storms.

I long for a cool brew
To freeze my throat
And quench my raging thirst:
Ice cool, ice cool, ice cool.
I’m sure not talking
Of tea.

Paul Butters

© PB 6\8\2018.

Sunshine!
Life’s lingering flashlight.
Too bright to stare at the sun.
Don’t stay out in it too long.
Suffocating heat sometimes.
My porch gets like a baking oven.
Get burnt and it will peel your skin.

Visions of desert dunes,
Camel trails:
A searing sun that sends you delirious,
Mirage-seas shimmering hypnotically above the sands.

I love the sun.
My memories of buckets and spades,
Golden sandcastles along the esplanades.
Delicious ice-cream.
A cooling breeze.
Grass and pollen
Making you sneeze.

A mini-heatwave we have now,
But storms will come
Over that brow.

British weather I have to say:
Sunshine now
For which we’ll pay.

Paul Butters