red rocks and the dry desert
are all that is needed for now
having left the crowds of Vegas
to journey along sunlit Lake Mead
to the empty welcome wilderness
laid out like a lost lover before me;
I love that I feel like the last man on earth
just the wind to whisper secrets to me
in self-imposed exile amid bleached bones
all is sand, sky and forgotten journeys
with signs of previous life etched into her walls
likemelikemelikemelikemelikeme
on and on til’ the canopy is bruised
and every star is a curious cloud;
the heavenlies are torn by the fallen,
bright, cat-claw trails bleeding light
while I drive out, past Nellis, to the strip,
cast back to the world where I belong…
it’s inevitable –
no one can live in the desert forever,
though they can die there well enough