the desert

the desert exists within the ribs like stringy sheets

Enclosing and stabilizing

An openness breezes forth shuttering tattered layers

Deep and visceral

The fixed seven, seven layers of hell, claim truth

Rigid and immobile

While floating small creatures expand

Keen falsity challenges absent expanse in the fixed seven

the desert breathes along a collision between

Organ agent and the shank of debate


The First’s surface looks upward and downward in the cage

The First curves with borders outward and inward

Transient creatures arrive and venture past The First

Mechanizing some ephemieral horizon


The Second is convex

The Second looks upward and only slightly outward


The Center has only a rough eminence

This piece of rising ground when laid flat touches all sides


Yet, behind and above The Second and The Center exists something


An internal surface smooth and concave

All direction is downward and inward containing a vibration

Familiar and intricate

Discover a little groove between the surface and the border

Arising root-Fibers of tension, apprehension, courage, self-possession

Rapidly pursue independent passages


The Desert has silence that breeds madness

The Desert is empty and deadly with loneliness

Don Juan’s demons pervade

A wasteland of nothing threatens to swallow

The Desert is the barrier to the promised land

The Desert is the land of exile


Yet The First, The Second, The Center, and hidden root-Fibers,


Begin to swell

Teeming with sounds unspoken and energy forgotten


While The Desert is being defined

the desert prepares its trumpets

Unleashing a seemingly empty container… the desert

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