Brian Eckert

Every day the same question:
Why don’t I get in my car and drive straight into the heart of the desert?

Every night the same reply:
Because things that go into the desert go there to die.

Sprawling retirement communities attest to this fact. The bones of angels attest to this fact.

I wonder whether parts of the Grand Canyon floor even exist; I mean
if anyone has ever seen them.

It rains in my desert, contrary to popular belief. Long glorious rains that bring out the smell of 10,000 years of death and demon piss.

The flowers bloom briefly but brilliantly in my desert, on the edge of a canyon nobody has ever heard of, in a time that has not yet happened.

So help me god I will get in my car and drive straight into the heart of the desert,
just as soon as this ice age ends.