Wednesday, April 29, 2009

TC: Club Sahara

At the oasis: dusk, dark intimations,

Faint simoon. Marooned Cassandra, waiting.

Consciousness: wily nets, loosening strings.

Odor of sex. Arpeggio-like oud

Runs up and down stepping-stone vertebrae.

Recumbent Traveller, in halter top,

Consuming some lilac-colored fruit. Moving

Without thought, without knowledge of anything

Into life, as ice melts in the mountains,

As the blue desert wind moves into a dune,

Lifting its yellow tresses, sifting, rushing

Over umber sands to a horizon from

Which night flings up a giant sky, billowing,

Weighed down by tons and tons of mute stars.

Western Sahara: from Palin's Travels

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