Sunday, July 27, 2014

Song-stream 3 — Incident on Sky Mountain

There’s a mountain lofty enough
it takes two days to make the peak.
It rises in the heart of a desert
where nomads pray to any passing mirage.
They’re satisfied to dine on scorpions
while downing barrel cactus juice.
They hallucinate of cubicles
floating in a glass of cabbages and ginger
looking at the rain streak the skylight
hoping they’ve secured the windows
in their newly-leased Honda Civics.
One of them flies out the door to check
but strikes the mountain there instead.
Soon she’s in a globe of berries.
The air is fragrant with exacting freshness.

She sees above the ripples of heat;
there’s not an office in her eye.
Half-way up she finds a halfway house.
It’s an edifice she’s yet to dream.
She’s genially greeted at the door
and welcomed with the latest reality
of living rooms and large flat screens
with twenty-four hour interruptions.
Exhausted with the climb, she wants to stay.
Twenty years later, she’s out to catch a breather
and meets a mad man coming down the mountain.
Maybe it’s a mad woman. He raves or she raves,
“You’ve stopped believing in a personal god,
but you’re still believing in the personal!”
and then turns to return to the sky.

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