Under still, morning starlight,

heart bright,

the soul of the desert

exudes heat,

still lingering from the day

in the ice blue night.

Stretching out,

long, like an old lizard,

soaking up that ground heat

and keeping an eye out for hawks.

 

Here among the rocks,

out on the long, low plateau,

in a world made only

of earth and sky

and many middle of nowheres;

they say you either come here to hide,

or you come here to die.

 

Old brambly sticker bush

brush on by

and scrape my skin.

Bleed me out,

and still be home

for unnaturally large jackrabbits.

Guess they live here,

so there’s still hope.

for an old man

on his last few feet of rope.

 

Maybe I will,

maybe I won’t;

stretch out,

like old Mr. Lizard

on these warm rocks

and watch the stars die.

I never knew the grace,

of the desolate mind.

Roll on,

just like the desert.

All night living,

we’ve got all day to die.

 

HG – 2016