A particle of dust holds many histories. There is the history of its own becoming. Everything in matter exists in a form waiting to be broken. Dust begets dust. The world has twice as much today as it did in the 19th century. GinaRae LaCerva
History is dust piling on itself,
A brown camel beauty smiling
Comically at holes in its skies.
Its dust has textures like a sea.
its waves are a funny laughter
Of a toothless granny in death.
We read a dust storm’s history,
A burial of its deaths as liquids
So we can run cars on its dust.
Wind runs a movement on dust
A storm of the camel’s laughter
As it goes up and down horizon.
We are dust of tribe in religion
Revenge wars and body killing,
Grinding bodies to a fine dust.
We are dust of camel laughter,
Staring at the holes in history.
We make fine dust of our holes.