Where do you come,


Looking back into desert mirage

The snake sliding across the road

Ahead, a boulder to carry

Like memories in tiny broken drawers

All the pent-up guilt, remorse, nostalgia, attachment

To the imprints within mind

A machine that never seems to wear down

And yet, breaks you, it’s skeleton beneath curtains

Into particles of sand

For the snake skin to morph into.



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Jim White

Jim White

Creation is the way. Transformation today. Metamorphosis play. Onward. To lay out in desert degree.