You’ve been bleeding ink for miles

on your dead man’s trek across the desert

Some of the words you left behind

are hidden under shifting dunes

a story of patchwork rivers in the sun

What you saw there is in your veins now

cut open on the rocks—

the death blow you still haven’t noticed

under the healing touch of fire

and the promise of open sky nights

coming toward you on wings of the sun and moon

If the bleeding stops, don’t worry

soon you’ll find another bed of razors in the sand

to rest your weary head upon

and cut the wounds open fresh

to start it flowing again

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Funny how easy it is to have a misconception grow into a deeply held belief. Or not funny at all, depending on how you look at it.

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Photo by Mikk Tõnissoo on Unsplash