There waved tiny flags on vast unutterable silences
Of the mountains, in rain and fog and vague figures
That hung heavily in clothed heads, in monkey’s glory
Whose eyes went over silky layers of September sky,
Suffused with thin mists of confusion and intellect.
There sat a monkey god, himself a victim of confusion
In frosty silence, abetted by a stony absence of clarity.
Should I or should I not, kill demons and/or restore life
To a god’s swooning brother, by a medicinal mountain
Or smear myself in ocher, my eyes closed in a prayer
As god- wife’s pearls turn rosary for prayer counting.
The flags fluttered in confusion on our many desires
Cancelling each other, the mountains rising over them.
The gods turned to quiet prayers as frosts fizzled down
Now and then, to a splendid sun emerging from pines.