NOT IN THE TAKLAMAKHAN

I. In hunt for self, My metatarsals budged, alert My spirit trudged on to the Taklamakhan; The land of ruins The city of death Beseeched By the preoccupation of the hunt for purpose; The hunt for my Achilles mitochondrion Locals whisper Albeit obstreperously That I am a blind peacock A deaf mosquito, even But the… Continue reading NOT IN THE TAKLAMAKHAN