I close a book on ecology and enter a dark wood, joining a cast of silvery-blue poets who follow
the Lunatic Path. Hidden in moonlight, they leap into darkness and devour choice gray morsels
of mind with the power of oracular words.

As mist floats across these mountains, living in isolated caves,
in China, hermits are covertly teaching what can now be found
on-line. Here, in the semi-darkness, a rock with no dimensions
guards the steep way down...

where I bow to a barren landscape, wondering why I must die
                                 before eternity can begin.

Behind windows sealed against dust smelling like gunpowder and wet ashes, as the moon
declines, radios are tuned to news updated every few minutes, while bleary eyes focus on
the beginning and the end.