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
