The eyelid of the moon just opened
The wind is never quiet in the desert
Dunes of no return, caravans not ever stopping
Where rain falls invisible leaving no trace
Shape shifting humps reveal a sphinx
At the edge of a hill beside the fire
As still the blind Berber quietly drums
Recalling words in a Punic language
The winds grow louder as one stops
Sahara silhouettes from Tuareg past
Morocco loco, windy, stormy sounds of Joujouka
Paul Bowles and Brion Gysin conducting
A belly dancer gyrates with snakes in her hair
The dervish circle of drummers burning the cacti
Gnawa and Maghreb beats, drums, clickety-clacks
Over the dried palm trees, crazy in their inner dazzle
Sand-mountains, sand-falls, the waterfalls of sand
Sliding through the hourglass funnel, skipping a millennium
As the dead are still waiting their turn
A long string of camels disappearing in the distance
–Valery Oisteanu
Poetry