the breath of the desert reveals itself
in the migrating ripples of
such subtle grains
depth in the afternoon
shadows dividing dunes
all dissolving after dusk when it is soft
stretched tight across the surface like
the skin of infants.
the desert blows perspective into my being via some secret wind. it comes from all directions and goes nowhere, spinning grains from ligt to dark, arranging patterns like a topographic microcosm of earths first day. all these reflections of infinity, found in spiralling fossils dispersed through marble and mirroring the cosmos: brilliant swirls of silver and stars and black holes and: galaxies beginning in the slate darkness of ancestral stones..
and we are going uphill now. he stomps the edge of the dunes down with his elvin toed shoes, terraced compressions in the sand. with one free hand he guides the camel up these steps, one cliffed hoof after another, until our golden caravan peaks at the beginning of the sky.
the colors change all day long. edges collapse upon eachother in a state of constant falling: earth alive. shape shifting in golden yellow; midday solar reflections and then pink..sometimes a deep red on the tops and ornate blue in between- the ever birthing mother expirimenting in spectral perfection.
