Joshua Tree

There is not much going on here
except for the commencement of vine.
A drinking ceremony and sand.

A quiet wind hovers in whisper
blowing over the rested cactus
as if the sun knows something

about the stay here tonight.
In the dome shaped tent, carpet
clenches the sleeping bags, the lint

of head nested pillows, thank you candles,
and empty buckets to pour screams
inside. And such was my company

when I bowed my head to the soft kiss
of Valerie, her precious hands, blessed
me with breath, as she did for all who showed

to journey on crouched as little temples
diving back into ourselves through warps
and dimensions of introspection.

The night swept quickly, pulling us closer
to our bodies amidst a singing Shaman.
Letting the ground swallow me with its

graciousness. I realize I fear nothing tonight.
Not the tiger welcoming me up the red stair-
case, or the tent walls shifting into a spaceship.

Or the Pterodactyl sewing connective tissues
of muscle to my tree of life. Let us keep it
this way, I say to myself. Even if death

is next to me, yelling and vomiting because
he scythes from within. Then, there are
those like me who prefer to sit silent

and enjoy the ride, the geometric colors
brought on as dream to find insight
in all that I am. Is it possible to look

in the mirror and see ugly turn to beauty?
I wish all things could stay with a sparkle,
just as the glimmer of stars reach us

before they die. Hands on my face,
feeling the richness of sight and wind
blowing over the sandy hills of Joshua.

I am still trying to sort out the details.

Arthur's picture

Last updated June 22, 2011