Monday, June 8, 2015

HIERARCHY OF NEEDS

In a dream—bereft and bonethin,
the angel of my soul
slithers forward,

ash-eyed, 
breathless,
and looking desperate-

ly—not for me,
for my 
cunning, or my

artistry! here in this desert; but just 
for a place
to stow herself

safely—until the next 
morning comes 
to calm

the stinging winds,
and embalm
with its tender clemency 

the cold nightwounds 
of her steep-sloping 
exhaustion.

But over 
and over,
on each clandestine dune

and at every single arcane pyramidal
structure
she comes to,

it's the 
same abysmal story—so sorry, 
No Vacancy.

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