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boots sink in

warm sand

at last –    damn!

she reaches

the yellow desert of consequences

\ big scorched out heat field

dancing guaguanco to resentful open nothingness

& dry air –             her waiter –

promptly recommends two choices

but those motives      those perceived reasons of her’s

slow roll backscript inside her head

framed in a teal vanity mirror

she sits in that warm sand & thinks…

do we really know the sense of honesty in the knowing

of our feelings…

/ this place

is the provenance

of invisible answers she will never taste



copyright 2016


About a. edward watkins

With the exception of 2 years study of western music theory and harmony- I am a self taught percussionist, writer and abstract painter. Not your drummer boy drummer - not your writerly writer nor the painterly painter. Creativity is an integral aspect of my existence - as it is for us all - in some form or another. My experiences in life have informed and shaped my world view profoundly. I am the disrupter - the never quite satisfied - the relentless creator of word, sound and image. I question the answers and question the questions.

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