The Western Desert
dry airless heat
choking windblown dust
the forgotten dreams of forgotten souls
now grains of salt
left by a lost ocean of tears
their songs now crunching tracks being laid
by chance wanderings of fleeting life
shifting from the unseen to the unknown
evaporating in time to ripples of light
and fallen crystals of grit.
My sunset will emblazon a vast horizon
for I jettison stuff in trade for space
and I jettison illusions in trade for time.
Tranquility, a timeless peace, is time with space
reconciled to casting away fear, desires and friends
illusions imprisoning bits of time
liberated for mindful living
all too soon just dissipated heat
the forgotten dream of a forgotten soul
9 February 2019
At a safe distance, I’m going to play the critic, Your poem ‘The Western Desert’ is very strong, in the richest vein of your literary work. Your short story, ‘The Liberation of Ellsworth Street’, is conventional, clumsy at points and all too positive in its values. The desert, not Ellsworth Street, is your more fruitful habitat. Sayeth the sage, with a blush and begging your pardon.
I’m so happy you reviewed and responded. I really wanted your opinion; and I value it. I had put off asking directly for your critiques because I had wanted to read all of your book first (I’ve read perhaps 1/3), or get lucky and see “Ellsworth” get published somewhere (besides my blog). Ellsworth was a rush to fit someone else’s style (noir) and format (< 6000 words short story); and I learned quite a bit in producing it. But, you're right, I’m best with my self-generated creative impulses. I'm still ruminating about working on a novel (I've done lots of planning and research for the story); but it would not be a crime story, instead something that combines all my real interests (mainly nature, family, and solar energy; and artistic people disobeying bureaucracy), and (hopefully) would also delight my kids, in particular my youngest daughter.
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