Saturday, April 13, 2013

A Poem by Stephen Jarrell Williams

Desert Flowers

hours into the desert
spilling sun

dusty road wheeling into sand
wrenching spinning tires under
into a final lunge

car revving
heat vapors over the hood

turning the engine off
sighing with the windows down

where I want to be

opening the door to
all the answers

walking barefoot
breathing easily

a loner, rebel,
thinker of how it should be

I squat on a soft mound
drawing a picture in the sand

others have been here
tortoise, lizard, snake

skin rags
clinging to skeletons

listening to
hoarse winds
telling me to dig my roots very deep.

Stephen Jarrell Williams loves to stay up all night and write with lightning bolts until they fizzle down behind the dark horizon. His poetry has recently appeared in a handful of stones, The Camel Saloon, The Rainbow Rose, protestpoems, Black-Listed Magazine, BoySlut, Orion headless, The Carnage Conservatory, and Aphelion.  He is the editor of Dead Snakes at

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