Monday, February 20, 2012


fifty miles from the interstate
in the middle of Black Rock Desert
riding on a rented bicycle
bound for Burning Man
stopping at the last phone booth
when the phone rings

within the absence of my shadow
and my lost soul
I let it ring five hundred times
before answering the calling cactus
from the motherboard of Burning Man
lighting up the booth one more time

after three hours of waiting
and trapped by the miseries of mystics
I heard her pause
then cough five hundred times
before turning off the lights
for the last time


Laurie Kolp said...

Eerie... I like the repitition of five hundred times, it shows impatience.

Brian Miller said...

a bit of a surreal feel to this wayne...def the 500 rings and 500 coughs...i think it would be interesting to be at burning man though...

rel said...

At least it's an even number.

Brigid said...

Intriguing response to the prompt, nice one.

izzy said...

Nice! Interesting play; love the desert and echoes- He isn't moving very fast if he time for all that listening! thanks.

Other Mary said...

I never let the phone ring more than 400 times. I'm funny that way. I'm not quite sure how to unpack this one...there's a lot in those few lines. I think I need ponder this a bit longer.

Kat Mortensen said...

Wow! I love the references to the Burning Man. (I can't help, but think of "The Wicker Man" when I read that though.)

Nice piece!

JJ Roa Rodriguez said...



Dave King said...

Oh, I do so like this! Superb surrealism.

~T~ said...

Very interesting. I'd hate to cough 500 times.

Emily Young said...

Really love the rhythm you created in this poem. Love how it opens too - very evocative description of the place. I felt like I was there in the Black Rock Desert.