With dust-the dryness comes easily

heart of my Heart,

darkness of Light

and miles of miles, my lungs they ache.

Myself-over oceans

the austere and terrible oceans

the weeping of my lost lovely mist.

And death stares back from the desert

with camouflage eyes and promises

of sleep and immortality.

to sleep and not to dream again

what you and He—

hands held tightly, white knuckles

on a pew. Atheism raging without a word—

have always wanted.

These vast empty deserts,

they pulse and they moan

They scream with silent mouths,

sewn shut—

such women's work to stifle the masses,

"You don't exist!"

To create—

To destroy!

with love such things are inferred,

to uplift with no thought of the sere

to uplift—to simper and sigh.

And to not perish

To never die.