Swirling dark, two questions

Cold wind rocks me wake 

camp flames whip

black desert

storms approach

horse and dog spooked

White veins skyward

light the world in grayscale

creatures, cactuses


beneath the flash

lashing dust gales

stubborn fire keeps itself alive

small victories

What could be the approaching thunder 

that is not thunder?

If trains existed yet

I’d bet a locomotive

bearing down


in the darkness

my saddle raised from the ground


next, the dog

swallowed by churning black

roaring wind

I wasn’t lifted

so much as exploded

backward by an uprooted


If there were a god

it might have plucked me

from death

but if there were a god

what be that swirling dark?

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s