Desparate Lands (7.27.15)

Unknown Carrion rested in peace

alongside the road in a hot Mojave sun.

 

A lone vulture circled

searching for his last meal

with pedantic possibilities.

 

Carmen played her guitar singing a lugubrious song

of desparate lands where sage grows for Shaman’s wands.

 

Rain did not come.

Rivers did not flow.

 

A tarantula hid under her rock in cool shade.

 

The Blue Bus was leaving.

Carmen finished her song.

The vulture had left alone.

 

 

 

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