Intermission: Furnace Creek

Dancing on the surface of my eyes

The acoustics of the sands

The swarming song inside the heat

Of the breath of dead sleep

That rocks the empty boats

Tied up to the barren shores

And pounded by crumbling forts

I've found the dead cities of Syria

Lost in the sands

The grains of ghosts

And traces of (various) apocalypses

And of men never born

Smouldered, harassed and bothered

Where the stood, angelically

Shoulder to shoulder

In solitary landscapes empty men watches

Delicate pigments of gone silhouettes

There was life here

Before the sands swept through the waters

And replaced the rapids

And sung and howled in between the houses