I climbed up a sandy mountain by my self

To see the top and the high desert

and the awful mountains west and north

alone among scattered trees

and a whirlwind miles down

I sat down to eat a sandwich

got sand in my clothes, in my shoes

on my skin. Roads crisscross the bare desert
precisely one mile apart in each direction

a skeletal grid of displaced desire
suburban destiny spilling over the mountains

On the summit I found a blue box

by accident. A log of names and dates

I added my name and date

and a note of greeting, like the others
marks of a meeting that always already happened

-a hubristic Hermit

Sand in My Pants

a group of us set out after dinner
to scale a mountain shifting beneath feet and hands
no grab on warm almost liquid softness
a group of us with more stamina
scrounged ahead of me
out of breath
i rested beneath the stars
chest heaving i continued
i passed someone on their way down
"how much further"
almost half way!
it seemed i was half way
most of the way.
i teamed up with someone i could not see
learned her name as we crawled for the ridge.
i straddled the dune
to find i could not see for all the sand in my eye

i slid partway down
my pants filled with sand
i settled in between new friends
to talk about home
and fall into the milky way
imagine weather patterns on fictional planets
count shooting stars
and confuse lit cigarettes with the cosmos
we agreed to stay for the moonrise

it rose over algeria
swiftly lighting our way back to camp
to sleep in berber tents
until the sun took its place

--A Deserted Desert Hermit