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  • Rolled up all tight like that at the foot of Ana Purna,
    Saturn throws his outer rings out like a ring toss game at a carnival
    up
    and over the summit.

    me ? ! A cup half full!

    A sow bug armored in a grey ribbed shell,
    chanting a Soul Coughing tune over and over again like a mantra.

    I am translating the Tibetan Book of the Dead into Arabic.
    I am covering my eyes with a pillow of mist .
    I am traveling this last bit of rocky treacherous trail as I grab handlfuls of huckleberries off tender limbs.
    I set the bar to match 14 thousand feet where peak meets heaven where
    the finest gasses of atmosphere shift
    and change into soulfulness.

    I am Chanting Down Babylon &
    rocking back &
    forth,
    I hail midsummer becoming the Light of the Shore
    I bind myself to heaven and earth

    while

    quietly listening to the the pingy pangy sound of the tap of my foot
    against the glass door that separates us
    from our fate.
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