“the desert dispels this hallowed ground of coarse insinuations”

the desert dispels this hallowed ground of coarse insinuations, complex of city, of human soul wishing to daub itself in iron, cement, stained glass windows, saintly osculations, medieval mosaics.

the desert brings in that infinite layer, its color between white and flesh, between beige and cinnamon smeared on the horizon; it delivers clear thoughts, sand in mouth, discomfort almost necessary to recreate the glorious aura of a happy, calm, dissolute mind, capable of harboring it all and digesting it, precise mouthful.

the desert flays the chewed nails, sloppy polished, among the chaos of a bored housewife, poorly peeled squash, broken buckets, soap for floors. it returns me to image and likeness of the music brushing against the cleaning of view, blood turning to sand. dunes and dunes, those words. footsteps in the silence, unambiguous. a tempering of well-used will, as if no morals were needed, nor history between the agrarian movements in which the measure of chastity was lost in the metropolis oozing coffee, cigarettes, amazons struggling fashion, cosmetics, the unscathed gaze of plasticity.

desert in your eye.
desert in my hand.
desert cold and hot.

desert on a mild night, in the ready ear of a queen bee preparing the battle’s final stinger.

a pair of fabricated wings furrows the corollary of twilight. the desert shrinks rage, burnishes poison and i’m the sky’s fabrication, i’m a blown-up cloud. with my love i strike down the whole street, i am a whale.