No half-shell rock
or open-faced clam work basking here,
I am Sphinx, see me roar!
Making a broad, solar statement,
when you stand on
little toe looking up with twenty-twenty vision,
and you're still stopped cold.
by the weight of its limestone
and a very disciplined sandy, stark presence.
Petting a very nature,
of a courage and stoned foresight.
From lasting, toiled prints
left in its matrix, in its backbone.
With a headdress message
and an unspoken language,
of being the guard, of known, and unknown
cosmic dust in the wind.
Which once was the greatest form
of ancient ruling,
Ra's pleasing handiwork
concentrating on its glory below.
The new, barge passages
that keep on flowing into
heart and mind,
from being in its space,
from the one lasting encounter
in the desert of the kings.
The hot sands
of crystal memories blowing
through this eternal, decorated heat.