18 November 1998

From Cappadocia

Melting landscapes of blood sands with windows to observe
the martian cats climbing to rock spaceships undisturbed
by cold rainfall forever altering preserved
shapes of volcanic churches embedded in their downward curve

I deserve the air
Navigating sandcastle staircases, smoke billowing from chimneys in red valleys
I breathe it in, and exhale
Trails of ghost footprints ascend to chiseled eyes beneath a stone veil
I follow, and find solace in the hollowed
mysteries that history has left to corrode
dissolve, collapse
Trapped in the gaps of drum taps
A silent atmosphere that was erased from the maps
Spatial relapse causes what slipped through the cracks to come back
and witness the sky's diffusion from day blue to night black
An attack of light scrapes constellations away to attract my gaze

Reflecting on days in a daze