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no man’s land

linn luker

the desert doesn’t need justification

for its existence

like I do.

when no one is listening,

it still makes noise.

the arid wind sings its solemn hymn

with no one around to conduct it,

coyotes howl and sigh

to no one in particular

about nothing in particular,

dead brush whistles

in near harmony with the breeze,

birds yell overhead,

( dinner plans? selfish soliloquies? )

vermilion sand gets

picked up


dropped elsewhere

by some invisible goliath’s hand –

and this continues forever,

without apology,

until entropy envelops the earth.