The Poetry Bus is being driven by Chris at Enchanted Oak this week. She has asked for:
Poems that address your existence on this earth. Good, bad, or indifferent, tell us something, anything, about your life here.
I am too beat right now to compose...I present as my bus ticket and for your reconsideration the very first "Sundays with LC" offering (Getting to know me):
The Desert, I
By Lemuel Crouse
The barren desert of my heart lies scorched
beneath a soulless sun. Now burnt, what love
grew there is dust, blown to and fro on winds,
once friends. By them I am now pushed away.
A famine dry and fierce once pierced my veins.
That drinker, dark and lusty in his thirst,
too deeply drank from teeming pools of life
and sucked away my future. I am dead
or dormant, which I may not learn ’til, ’wake,
I spring from sun-bleached bed or, dead, I rise
no more. If I but sleep, then why can I
not dream? If dead, can I not hope to be
reborn? I do not dream. I cannot hope.
Sous le soleil sans âme je suis, je reste...
Photo from http://www.usnews.com/science/articles/2009/11/05/mystery-of-the-mojave.html