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Poetry Magnum Opus

The race of camels


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Winds ride deserts racing, the sun pursues its incarnations through dreams of trainers. Faces of of jockeys hover between ghostly suns. Which prayer will be the first to arrive on the angels run.
Clouds are like trap doors, angels surface to gather at the threshold of camels vision whose hearts are at once mortal and divine, angels drink heavens wine spreading its scent as camels race.

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Aside from the effective use of alliteration, it is surreal to me. It's what makes it mysterious how you piece the imagery together.

"Words are not things, and yet they are not non-things either." - Ann Lauterbach

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