Wander/lust was an experimental draft for a poem centered around a person as a place — a man as a cold desert, the Gobi in Mongolia. The piece has a lot of problems, it’s too abstract and not cohesive at all. There are some images that come through, but they are unrelated and the reader has to make huge leaps to make any connections. It’s like speaking in code.
I began this piece a very long time ago, and never went back to finish or elaborate on it. I’m not sure that I even can go back to work on it, as any initial inspiration for it is gone, though I suppose I could draw from memory. I call it draft zero because it doesn’t even merit being called a rough draft. It needs a writing group. Feedback is welcome. Here we go:
My dark eyes gaze upon your form,
a sea of sienna and ivory
Treacherous path, I travel slowly
but carelessly
Delicate ridges thin insulation
mark delineations of a body;
singing dunes that
hushing past voyagers
Wet tongue, aching to
trek alabaster perfection
Wander/lust takes over;
exquisite expectation
Golden wisps entice me
to disregard despite intrinsic coldness
Your silence, impassable
like Mongolian aridness
In the light: sudden shift,
laconic smile, negative 40
Directionless, I succumb to the
ultramarine blue of a gaze
In the dark: crimson skin,
100-degree days in the dunes;
pallid complexion opaques onyx sheets
witnesses of a nighttime thaw
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