The desert and i are getting acquainted.
She is a dry old lady with cracks and dust.
I dance in her breeze and she desiccated my balls soaked in sweat.
The night is silent and the space is deep.
The moon dressed in her golden frock blesses all below in anticipation of her imminent fullness. She will be full with succulent cheese, Gouda?
No saguaro here, no prickly pear, no creosote neither. Nothing blooms on this desert, except people.
I have come to bloom.
I am here to burgeon with creative self.
I am here to express my unique vision of life, death and all in between.
I am here for eight days where Someone was for forty.
I am more available to God here and He to me.
Everyone here is available to each other and to themselves and to the wind and dust.
Can you feel the spirit Jeff? In the breeze? In the night? In the quiet which will soon disappear (Jeff is my name for the Hiky Spirit)
I am here, to love you. Sit here with me in the night time breeze before the silence and emptiness vanish to dust and Burners.
Who am I that I should be granted such an audience?
I am no one. I am everyone. I am the man that I am.. Let me hug and let me kiss and let my live grow and flow over the playa and let it bloom in fabulous beauty hard to see in the bright solar heat.