Seven days of life
in playa earth and white-outs.
You are dusted pure.
* *
Shirt once a bright pink
lost against green tent, gold car,
my white muted hair.
* *
Days later these clothes
still cough powder; hate to think
what my lungs look like.
9.15.2008
Playa Haikus: Plaikus
Seven days of life
in playa earth and white-outs.
You are dusted pure.
* *
Shirt once a bright pink
lost against green tent, gold car,
my white muted hair.
* *
Days later these clothes
still cough powder; hate to think
what my lungs look like.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
You played a large role in a rather vivid dream I had the other night. You had created an internet gif (with sound, somehow) in which you enthusiastically proclaimed to be some Irishman of note, then ran down a hill, knocked over some trees and swam in a river so hard its course changed. Then we walked around a college campus that was half Vassar and half University College Dublin in weather that turned out to be the start of a hurricane.
Post a Comment