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Milarepa's Lament

More than anything it makes me think of wind on an
oily lake in autumn. Tiny ripples inform of
stray ethers lost from their electromagnetic
choke cherries growing on the barbed wire fence.
I couldn't tell for sure, but it appeared, through
the least likely of circumstances, that
I could no longer fathom, so I surrendered to this
my pale dream, friend of a  distant
chanting of names long since forgotten. Unable to
move, or even think. And the shrieks didn't
sound anything like porpoise cries. We turned out
to be quite dead ourselves, & never even knew!
-finished 3/14/2013 10:03:18 PM PST

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