Odes to Oats | Desert Symphony
20241
post-template-default,single,single-post,postid-20241,single-format-standard,theme-hazel,hazel-core-1.0.7,woocommerce-no-js,ajax_fade,page_not_loaded,,select-theme-ver-4.7,wpb-js-composer js-comp-ver-6.7.0,vc_responsive

Desert Symphony

Description: A collection of poems from my time on the playa at Burning Man 2015.


 

I can imagine a world where the reactions that I expect for the actions I enact are inexact and in fact just a relic of another age.

 


 

I see your reflection, this collection of particulate, inarticulate of your actual meaning, factually meaning that you are inimitable and your mirror is merely a fable.

 


 

You are delightful, a sight full of constant spontaneity, an insight into experienced humanity, a delirious documentary about the beautiful brevity of unadulterated joy witnessed when two friends meet again.

 


 

Complex is my complex. Break it down and one element is the sentiment that my notion of emotion is lost at sea. Simple it seems my extremes are just a dichotomy, joy and tears lacking melody detracting from semblance of empathy, my characters contrived in triviality their trivia a fallacy similar to my own three dimensionality.

 


 

We gather here in this land of sand, or dust rather, and in this bliss, this callous chaos where the fire blazes, the white sky greys us so that what we imagine we see in this blinding seething sea is the fading figments of our lost reality. This vehicle in emotion drifting in and out of motion lets me cast my glazed gaze into my desert kiln cluttered with clustered and dusted kin while my skin and mind begin to harden into a shatterable ceramic. Break me.

 


 

Sweet desert symphony symbolic of the clock tick that triggered my clarity positioning me between 6 o’clock and humility, what once was my humanity now bathed in powdered playa blocking with alkaline my sight is silenced by violins. We, caged animals, freed from our, by our, kazoos and while we play and hum and sing to Beethoven’s notes I note that had time been shifted, a simple week delayed, then for me alone in barren dust this orchestra played.

No Comments

Post a Comment