Implacable Fate

The moon promised me a long, proud, marigold night…

Instead, I walked among the clouds with Sherpas, who lost 

Their mules and drank heartily from their bottles of raksi 

Before plummeting a thousand eons to their deaths, 

Leaving me alone to find my way back.

In the village, I saw a shaman shake a shadow-clan

To their very core with the spice-cloud of his deep command, 

And monkeys, well-versed in allegory, 

Planned their picnic in the fields of tomorrow’s victory.

I heard a magician’s voice fall down

A complex cascade of mirrors before gurgling 

To its death in a storm drain, and the sound 

Of spoon-music singing across the exploding fields of midnight.

I saw a clock unwind to a bottle of wine

As an out of tune guitar got the better

Of a drunken player longing to make romance

In the sad, chaos-ridden night.

I heard peepers in the forest near the river, peeping,

And wondered what all the poets must be dreaming.

In one of their houses I saw a candle burning.

I made out the poet himself, dressed in a satin robe.

With one exhalation, he blew the candle out.

I swear I heard someone scream when the house went dark.