- Non-Erotic Poetry
- A Shutter Click: Sunbleached
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One hundred nineteen fahrenheit,
is so bright, bright, everything white.
The heat bakes the marrow,
roasting the landscape to death,
in death valley of all places.
I've been here when it was madder,
when sweat vaporized before it beaded,
desiccated my breath.
It made me swoon with a mother
of all headaches, see stars
even die for a moment
but what struck me besides the
insufferable sun was the silence.
So quiet, just shutter, click, click
of me with a close-up lens
chasing a scorpion who chased a lizard
who chased a spider across the sand in a
place where Hell is not red hot, it's bleached.
