Alice #4

So I'm working on this writing project of not adaptation of "Alice in Wonderland" but something about her, using her character as a jumping off point for something...this is the most recent fragment, using place...you won't really be able to see the Alice in here at the moment, eventually it will all hopefully come together, crossing my fingers for some illustrations:

Nothing like the half desert here with mountains rocky and a creek by the way by the side of half shrub trees. Trains at night lights bright white on the rockside that climbs a kilometer above my feet. Echo at the rattlesnakes that don’t or won’t make an appearance in the crunchy gold grass. Drive into town five closed restaurants and a diner small town life in this hot dry place. Still.
It’s true about tire dust flying up into the open windows in my mouth my hair my eyes, gritty scrapings with blinks. The taste of this place like the lack of a smell here. Put my boots down on gravel for a minute, scrape around push around small rocks that get close to my toes through holes in the rubber in the leather. My shins sweat under jeans and laces dusty up to the knees. Maybe 2 3 people in center town. They look at me my car brush hair off their foreheads and go somewhere. This could be a place for a fall but not mine. At the diner I order toast with marmalade take a bite and leave it for coffee. To go two cups for the road, back in my car and I’m gone.

stuff I've been writing, not edited, kind of streamy

the streets are rain-marked
unlike the barrennes I've coome from
Along one road
everyday another
partial end to true one
I remember waiting
though I never did
as the fractured memory of memories
replaces knowledge
the cut off point
when hollow stomachs
and dry eyes loosen themselves
wet with salt
I am in this moment
torn with the moment
five steps from the house
across the street
in Portage wind
orange sweater
watching the cross of streets
deciding I would leave soon
it isn't love but a discontent
sewing with my fingers raw
I can't seem to make anything
hold
hand defies my attempt to bring
lives together
places dictate my meaning
and a room of my own is not this one
train light on the
deserted mountain side
curled and mangled in
the backseat
every noise a shock
three hours sleep, heat
to burn so much skin
exposed
through clear windows