New Desert

A new desert in reach. My barren bare essentials are hopelessly transforming. Becoming camel, the plainess that is felt within these bare dunes is seemingly satisfactory. What is this fulfilment coming in an undoing? A Downward intensity... How so? How so? We loose time in a sand storm of 'not everything has to be said now, not everything has to be done now' This time we can decide on how much to give, how much to take - without it being laborious, contrived. And who says that only passion is a raw material? Bare essentialism might simply mean giving one shade of beige at a time. And when, sleep becomes dusty, made nude under a harsh sun, dry mouths need not even summon to speak because, here on this lowland something in the lull of your gaze, and the gap of our speech act, makes for a space which is awkwardly thirsty yet fruitful in its famine. Freedom in fast. And now, when I see, I see a distant map of orangey plottings all around me, and am both compelled and assured that to keep travelling onwards... is but to bite a single one.