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Sunday, 11 October 2009

Club Sahara


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File:Erg Chebbi pano.jpg

The dunes of Erg Chebbi, Morocco: photos and panoramic stitching by China_Crisis, 26 December 2016



At the oasis: dusk, dark intimations,

Faint simoon. Marooned Cassandra, waiting.

Consciousness: wily nets, loosening strings.

Odor of sex. Arpeggio-like oud

Runs up and down stepping-stone vertebrae.

Recumbent Traveller, in halter top,

Consuming some lilac-colored fruit. Moving

Without thought, without knowledge of anything

Into life, as ice melts in the mountains,

As the blue desert wind moves into a dune,

Lifting its yellow tresses, sifting, rushing

Over umber sands to a horizon from

Which night flings up a giant sky, billowing,

Weighed down by tons and tons of mute stars.


4 comments:

Lucy in the Sky said...

The oasis we find in our lives are those wonderful moments that are supposed to make up happiness while the moving sands remind us that nothing is static. Blessed, blessed change that keeps us alive. Great poem, Tom.

TC said...

Lucy,

Many thanks.

Sand grains, eternities, lives, moments: nothing holds still. Today's reality may be tomorrow's mirage...

the biscuit factory said...

I had to read this out loud. The alliteration took me there, a pleasure on many levels.

L.

TC said...

Leigh, thank you for hearing this one... certainly the sound patterns were meant to be (to mix metaphors a bit, on purpose) a large "part of the picture".