The Lost Horizon | A Poem
by L.M. Browning, from a working collection
Souls age in thousand-fold nights, wandering
across internal landscapes to desert’s
edge. At the corner of a crossroad, a
blue tail flicks and slicks as the lizard
slides through dust, around adobe wall, and
disappears in the cracked door, cadmium
yellow deep. Landscapes converge, coyotes
howl and the rattlesnake shakes, recoiling.
Milky way rivers run above sandy
scape. Daylight drown, watching stars emerge to
teach the cure that lies in the slow silence.
I had a vision there–in the land of
thick heat and shifting sheer shapes. Rocks
stacked higgledy-piggledy by tired Gods
long-evaporated under midday
sun. They walked off down trails erased by winds
that keep secrets from time and memory.
It was there star-crossed and awe-struck my path
joined with a dark-eyed Delila seeking
my soul and the doorway into my world.
Trickster, temptress, bride, I can only hope as
I abide by the heart’s pulling, following
her through trees, unto silhouetted horizon.
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I hear the voice of god in the hum of the neon sign at the rest stop, where the caravan of displaced desperadoes and expats post-up for the bottomless cup of coffee….
Be gentle long night, I don’t belong here. Thrown to the wolves, I shifted nocturnal.
In a land beyond the pervading dark,
in a state beyond the fever-pitch…