literature

Boundaries

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Literature Text

I look to my left.  The state's biggest sand dunes stretch into the sky, spotted with minuscule hominids attempting to climb them.
I look to my right.  Huge hills tower above everything else, even the sand.  Their expansive sides are swathed in grass, shrubs, and trees.
Left. Desert.
Right.  Forest.
Desert.
Forest.
Desert.
Forest.
Desert.
Forest.
A sunny golden yellow.
A mottled, low-intensity green.
And to top it all off, I'm standing in the middle of an ankle-deep lake that separates the two.
How does nature work?
YeshelloIamuploadingstuffat12:31AMfornoreason
For the past week, I was on vacation with my dad, sister, and step-family in Arizona and Colorado.  There was a bunch on interesting stuff, like this park called The Garden of the Gods and a zoo with free-roaming kangaroos and a bunch of art vendors in Santa Fe and the world's longest commercial cable car (which I also wrote about).  The stop featured here is Great Dunes National Park, and yeah, I'm kinda confused as to how that works.  But hey, it's pretty cool!  I figured I could and should write something about it, especially since I missed out on my writing class that week.  So here, have this short prose poem about how deserts don't make any sense.  I'm thinking about finally finishing this: fav.me/d7rolxz to get myself back in the groove of writing stuff, so that might be up soon.  Might.  I'll at least put up the other piece I wrote while in Albuquerque.  One final thing: Did I mention that I have a grunkle Bill that lives in the desert?  Because I do.  Why Bill would possess Stan and what business he has in Night Vale, I can't say, but it's a fun scenario to consider.
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