07° 11′ 17.01″ W

A compositional desert:

heart heavy with words,

mouth unattached and slack,

fingers uncoordinated and resistant.

who blocks the stream?

damming the release of emotion?

what dare cut off the flood?

behind the barrier whispers swirl and build;

sentences transpire and eddy

until a verse bursts forth.

the surging swell erupts through its captor,

detonating walls of fear-instilled drought.

the dusty levee seeps up liquid prose,

flowers and poems rise,

the soil beyond the dam’s walls quenched.

do not let fear bung up the flow,

nor dash the clouds away.

let stanzas rain down, expression made,

and revelations flood the land.

the cracked tongue drinks and awakens,

paralyzed hands flood with impulse,

and stiff voices are free to utter.

rushing water has rejuvenated

and given life to body and soul.

do not let fear bung up the flow,

nor dash the clouds away,

for words imperfect made

are rich words all the same.

desert series, pt. 1: 07° 11′ 17.01″ W