Sunday, January 2, 2011

desert child

My spirit sounds like a woman

body moves like a man

lost inside the balance

of where I'm going /

where I am

I am where I'm going /

I am...

only when we break persona

through the molecules of steam

I'm touching the walls

floor and ceiling of the sauna...

still pages falling out

think I need a new sketchbook

think I need a new hot look

the cold lick of my luck

strip away my home

my scalp and my dome

black sand be my throne

and it's all gone with the wind...

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