Desert Poem

A skull sizzles in the sand as I sit
down beside it and let the wind
scrape me with riddles of red,
expansive explosions

that burn on my skin.  I stare
ahead into the desert abyss,
see bullets.  Soon they shine
in a charge of light

before dissolving, slowly,
like my breath. I grab the skull
and set it on my lap; what else
is left?  Eventually smoke

will move in and fit me
into the garment of a ghost,
where I'll glow all yellow
and lit from within, as if

suns were my organs.