Desert Eagle

Into the common rooms it flew filling us with feathers,
hollow bones, Indian song of the desert and sun
and our hearts fell into our feet as he looked around.
I think his eyes were gold. He shuffled his feathers
down and looked right at me and I wanted to back
away but he took my hand and lead me to the next
life and while we were flying in the darkness I heard
chanting and songs and I saw my life as a book of
pages and on the way we read his book too.

Colors came back, light poured under the walls
when we hooked our feet to the earth again.
He was a slightly crooked man, tall and lean and he
held a walking stick with the head of a snake. He pointed
to the four walls of the day, to sun climbing ladders,
to the magic pouring from my hands and he
said this is good and flew away.





For the man from the desert who lost part of his brain

and liked to tell his story in photographs.