Forty-six days ago

I was stuck in that desert,

Not a drop to my name

Or thoughts of the sane,

More of the same, the less I refrained.







 it’s too much voodoo to do

Today and tomorrow

So very sad the doctor isn’t in,

his hex always backfires

Yet again

Catching a case of the diminished.


A cactus.



Incoming imagination,

Hearty laughter from hallucinations,


         From the barren earth below,

                & Somehow I know

Today it is Not happening

For I begged the mirage too far.

To give, three weeks to seek

                The tempting creek

                Hiding and weaving through the city of Men,

                Their holy pig pen,

I confess, I prefer a watercress mess

                                Than to be blessed

 with banishment into this land of hexagons.

Built up, delayed,

Whatever you call it,

I’m here for a good while.


A time in fumes, to plume, smoke,

From leather lungs,

In a heat so dry

A fun long gone.

Rhythms to see

Aromas to hear

Nothing to say,

For this tiring mind-grind

Keeps relaxation at bay,

And I pray, to find those dreaming-steaming waters.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I repeatedly find myself lost and stranded in a desert without water. Oh well, I learn a thing or two each time ~ Carmello Yello

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