Desert Mesa Haikus

God unfurls His cloth

Over the tops of mesas

And asks us to dine. 

Walk the lonely path

Desert rain hardens as sand

And holds up your feet.

Top of the mesa

Spreads out passed all horizons

If you’re small enough. 

An old desert wind

Carries cries from years away

So you may cry too. 

God is ascetic

He sleeps on a hard mesa

On the seventh day. 

Published by Michael Sean Erickson

I write, act, and produce films in Los Angeles. Everything else is conjecture.

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