MICHELLE HARTMAN Devil don’t go where I make my home No wonder prophets find God in the desert, falling into endless blue kiss try to hold onto dust remember who scorched the ground who said it’d be alright. I’d be happy to have him on this road. Desert, warps your thoughts strange and empty beliefs of how world works shredded by each desolate mile. Shimmers roll slowly into infinity world is upended and I dangle from spiny cactus over a universe of vacant sky.
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