The Old Way



In the rain shadow of Majave Desert I eat hot sand
I am singing with their Death Valley
I have allowed them to build my faith under a Joshua Tree
                                                                              & I feel a pain in the little finger


             leaning towards a withered language 
I maintain the hollow of the dirty sky
                            I am split between the Great Basin & Province & the Sonoran Desert where the dark tower is a grave

                           from one hole to another I seal the capital of decaying with anesthesia

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