Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

Streaked across a desert,
quartz veins and leather-bound tracts,
rust neon thrusts, absurd po-mo props,
miles of bleach stucco arches, empty eyes.
Grass skeletons split up faulted blacktop.
Foil wrappers spread on wind-kept stains,
like something of a revival, light that kills.
Dry light quickens preachers and outlaws.
Sell me your religion.
Sell me wide open.