said for those who continue Pilgrimage
concealed behind bone & flesh thought & jealousy
hate & love
delusion & confusion.
the dead ask simply;
Now that I wander alone apart from my loved ones
And all my visions are but empty images
May the Buddhas exert the force of their compassion
And stop the fear and hate-drawn terrors of the between!
All around prayers of the disembodied ones
whistle through trees
Cap Anson tobacco card clothes-pinned onto bike spooks
hillbilly babies skipping over humpbacks in the Mediterranean
Tonight these beeches are Dracula’s widows
hunched & luminescent shriveled pasty
howling in Western night
snarling for the un-dead prince who leaves not prayers
but puncture wounds summoning infection.
Mother at the urn rise & leave these ashes swaddled in sheep wool
here in the forest
(I dream of the fox skull being an astronaut picking his autoharp
on the full moon
and feel a fool)
May the demons heed their extremities;
devour the marble grenade!
May the demons throat be narrow
so not even kusa grass blade may pass!
May the demons wrench whirl
cracked windpipe suffocation illumined wolf moon!
May Spirit Fox never wander alone
May the demons awake & break into firefly
May all brothers sisters cousins aunts uncles
pioneers shaman tribesman
Firmly hold & clasp hands
round hulking backs
sweet perfumed napes gently rocking between
May Grandma Rose & Grandpa Santo never go hungry.
Tonight the dead pray for us.
