dah writes

Turbine

I’m in stillness, silence, 

listening.

The desert’s pungent sage
absorbs me.
There’s blinding white borax
like a divine unveiling

I’m a drowsy child
in a giant sandbox
My innocence transfixed
on the providence of nature,
on a new future.
A wobbling sun
whirls its turbine.

Over the mountains, the full moon
seems too heavy to move,
it rises nonetheless,
like a penetrating guru,
taking me into a trance
of consciousness.

Confident thoughts follow.
My inheritance lies before me,
shadows stacked upon shadows,
hundreds miles of desert nightscape

Turbinen-Kopf (Turbine-Head) -- Gunter Pusch