Friday, September 14, 2007

.c.a.s.h.





...out there on the Yuma Flats i heard a story of seven people dead in the sand, the sun, like a pied piper, lied as they marched on-- in the circles they left footprints and bootprints and never named a single one...


"Don't you know heartaches are heroes when their pockets are full"

...i do, and deserts, too, always crossed by some Kerouac plot, but i know it is only the dirt and the sand that stay and stand still...


...too true, the taxi ride of wind, i could dream as hard as i can, to the west and north, and still not cast the slightest shadow over my shoulder...

No comments: